"Your annual salary isn't worth more than the clothes I'm wearing."
A glance suddenly darted toward Aurelia Shaw.
With a cold sneer, "Ugh, even if some nobody sneaks into the party, you should keep your eyes open. Not everyone's clothes are as cheap as some people's."
"Aurelia, you don't think I'm being mean, do you? You have to understand me; my outfit is different from yours. Mine is handcrafted personally by a master from the L Kingdom, ordered three months in advance.
Even though I'm only wearing it once, I still want to hang it in my closet as a keepsake.
Now that you've spilled on it, how am I supposed to wear it again?"
The last sentence was directed at the waiter.
The waiter trembled, "I'm... I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional, but I don't think I splashed on your clothes."
Fiora Harris gaped, "You call that not splashing? How much more do you want to spill, an entire glass of wine?"
"I-I'm sorry, ma'am."
"Oh!" An interjection in pure M Nation language.
