"So, let's go now!"
"Ra-Rice… what is that…?"
The outfit Rice Shower proudly held up was… something else.
It was pure white, frilly, and fluttery—so much so that I questioned whether it even qualified as clothing. It was covered in lace and ribbons, like something out of a fantasy novel. Not quite Gothic Lolita—there was no black in sight—but I had no idea what to even call it.
All I knew was: it looked expensive, overly cute, hard to wear, and definitely hard to move in.
"I think it would look great on Viola-chan."
"There's no way this suits me!"
"No veto allowed."
"Why not!?"
Before I could protest further, she pushed me into the fitting room.
As expected of a department store, the fitting room was spacious enough for two. Just before stepping in, I glanced at the store staff, silently pleading for help—but they only smiled warmly.
Traitors. Capitalist dogs. Is the one holding the wallet really that powerful!?
"If you won't undress, Rice will help."
"N-No Wait…"
Reluctantly, I stripped down to my underwear. Rice handed me the dress—white from top to bottom, except for a single blue rose at the waist.
It was a one-piece, so I slipped it over my head. But then came the ribbons. So many ribbons. Rice had to help tie them all in place.
When I finally looked in the mirror, the transformation was complete.
I'm still a little girl, and a horse girl at that, so I guess I'm technically "cute." But even so, this outfit felt like too much. I looked like a porcelain doll.
"Wow… cute."
"Hah…"
That was all I could manage in response to Rice's compliment—a meaningless sigh.
"It comes with a matching headdress, tights, and shoes."
"A-ah… okay…"
She placed a headband on my head, handed me a garter belt I had no idea how to wear, and helped me into pristine white shoes.
The whiteness level had gone from "bright" to "blinding." That's all I could think about.
"Alright, we're buying this."
"Where would I even wear this?!"
"Why not just wear it every day?"
"This?! Everyday??"
Sure, it was surprisingly easy to move in—probably designed for horse girls—but it was so delicate, so white, so… noticeable. One wrong step and I'd stain it forever. And the price tag? I caught a glimpse of the digits and nearly fainted.
"It's okay. The set includes matching underwear."
"How is that okay!?"
Rice even brought out pure white lace underwear. My shame meter was maxed out.
"But Viola-chan doesn't have veto rights."
"Why not!?"
"Just because."
Rice Shower, usually so reserved, was being unusually assertive. She pushed me so hard I ended up wearing the full outfit—underwear and all—and walked out of the store in it.
She paid with a black card.
I didn't ask. I didn't want to know.
Frills fluttered in the breeze. Ribbons danced with every step.
It wasn't hard to move in, but I was terrified of damaging the delicate lace. Every motion felt like a risk.
The store clerk beamed at me. "You look wonderful in it!"
I smiled back politely, but inside, I was screaming.
Still, I walked carefully, frills swaying, trying not to trip over my own embarrassment.