The sound of "VICTORY" flashed across the screen with triumphant echoes.
Luna leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs as she let out a triumphant sigh.
"I've risen to Master… finally," he murmured, with a small smile of satisfaction. "Smurfing on diamond like it was bronze…"
His account displayed the silver shield with golden wings.
She stood there for a moment admiring her progress, but like any self-respecting modern goddess, she didn't have much time to celebrate.
One of the mansion's servants appeared at the bedroom door with refined discretion. "Miss Luna, the fashion designer Liyto has just arrived. He's waiting in the hall of mirrors."
Luna arched an eyebrow.
"Already?" She glanced at the clock in the corner of the screen. "Ah… the gala. Damn."
She stood up, stretching her arms and sighing as if the world demanded too much of her, even though she was, technically, one of the most privileged people on Earth.
Still... socializing was more work than ranked solo queue.
He walked to the hall of mirrors, an entire wing of the mansion with smart glass panels, voice-controlled lighting, and an exclusive minibar stocked only with French teas and wines.
That's when the door banged open.
"MY GOD! ELAAAAA!"
The designer strode in, spinning on his axis, a tablet in one hand and an absurdly long scarf in the other. His dyed pure white hair was pulled back in a gravity-defying side bun. He wore a black silk shirt with gold buttons and wide-leg tailored trousers with amethyst-colored patent leather shoes.
"You are more beautiful than I was told, more radiant than the dawn and more unfair than any standard of beauty ever created by humanity!" Liyto exclaimed dramatically, pointing his finger at Luna.
Luna simply sighed and made a "V" with her fingers, with a lazy smile.
"Come on, Liyto. I don't have all night… even if the night has me."
"I WAS BORN FOR THIS!" he shouted, spinning around.
Liyto activated the mirror's artificial intelligence, pulling up several holograms with dresses, makeup, hairstyles, and jewelry. He began speaking at rocket speed, gesturing like a conductor directing a symphony of lasers and digital fabrics:
"We have the onyx option with a side slit to the spirit! Or the royal satin option in lustful red! Maybe something futuristic with holographic shoulder pads?! Oh, maybe a high bun with rhinestones? Or... bioluminescent glitter that reacts to your emotions!?"
Luna looked at him with that blasé look. Then she said, "I've already picked out my dress. It arrived this afternoon. It's white. From Maison Lévêque, limited edition. Oh, and I'm not wearing makeup. Just the lip gloss I like."
Liyto stopped walking. And took a deep breath.
"Are you telling me... that you want to wear a white dress... and NONE of my thirty-seven concepts created in three days?"
"Uhm."
"And without makeup?"
"Only the strawberry gloss. It has shine."
He fell to his knees. Literally.
Hands on chest as if he had been stabbed in the chest by an existential knife.
"SHE IS PERFECT AESTHETIC CHAOS. HOW CAN I ADD BEAUTY TO THIS WITHOUT COMMITTING A CRIME AGAINST ART?"
"Liyto…" Luna walked over to him, bent down slightly, and touched his shoulder. "You're going to be the first designer in history to be paid for doing almost nothing and still receive applause. Breathe."
He let out a muffled scream, wiping away a dramatic tear with a handkerchief embroidered with his own silhouette.
Minutes later, with Liyto resigned to just discreetly adjusting the seam of the dress, and nothing more, Luna came out of the closet as if she had descended from a cloud.
The white Maison Lévêque gown was an ethereal masterpiece. Pure silk fabric with slight sheer long sleeves, a cinched waist with subtle crystals, and a light train with silver embroidery that traced constellations on the fabric.
She wore silver heels with thin straps that intertwined to mid-calf, and a necklace with a single black pearl dangling from it.
Her hair? Loose, with light, natural waves. And, of course, her lips glistening with strawberry gloss.
Liyto muttered. "Looks like the whole Gala will need therapy after seeing you."
Luna blinked. "Maybe I should open a clinic after the gala. I could call it Beauty Side Effect."
Liyto just sighed with a defeated smile.
As Luna grabbed the minimalist white clutch from the shelf and typed something on her phone, probably replying to one of the three thousand unread messages from CEOs, politicians and nobles, the world was already about to lose its balance.
—Across New York—
The main ballroom of New York's most prestigious hotel was an explosion of gold, marble, crystal, and polished voices in multiple languages. Gold-plated titanium chandeliers hung from the ceiling like galaxies frozen in time, casting their light on the world's most influential: nobles, CEOs, diplomats, heirs, models, actors, and every other creature living at the top of the social food chain.
Lumine really stood out among them.
Tall, slender, possessing a serene, glacial beauty, she wore a crimson-red gown with silver embroidery and rubies delicately sewn along the bodice, as if each stitch told the story of a dynasty that defied centuries. Her midnight-velvet black hair was loose in perfect waves to her waist. Her pale, almost ethereal skin was the ideal contrast against her dark wine-tinted lips.
And the eyes…
Ah, the icy blue eyes, which seemed to have been stolen from a silent Scandinavian winter, observed each person in the room like a queen analyzing possible pieces on a chessboard.
At her side stood Arthur von Edelweiss, her older brother, direct heir to House Edelweiss and one of the most feared and admired men in the occult political scene. He was like a solar version of Lumine: blue eyes, yes, but with an incendiary intensity; black hair cut with military precision; an imperial-cut suit with embroidered details on the cuffs; the Edelweiss crest in discreet silver.
Arthur sipped champagne calmly, but his eyes scanned the room like sensors, picking up conversations, alliances, betrayals, and false smiles. In the distance, groups of nobles laughed, toasted, and whispered, each with their own hidden agenda.
"You should talk more tonight," Arthur said matter-of-factly, his eyes never leaving a group of Asian dukes laughing near the wine table. "Father is... reviewing candidates."
Lumine almost choked on the delicacy of the glass. "Candidates?"
Arthur finally looked at her. "He wants to marry you to a global nobleman."
Young Edelweiss huffed, elegantly crossing her arms. The dress, though tight, seemed tailor-made for the aristocrat's silent indignation. "So now my life is a bargaining chip between old fogies?"
Arthur smiled with one corner of his lips.
"Technically… it always was. But you always had more guts than the other debutantes."
"Thanks, I guess," Lumine said, turning her gaze to the velvet tables and the shadows of political alliances being silently forged.
She thought of Victoria.
In the arranged marriage that her friend considered a prison with gala decorations.
He thought of Victoria's frustration, her contempt for that "idiot fiancé" who spent more time flattering nobles than talking to her.
"I won't accept this, Arthur. I won't end up married to a useless diplomat just because someone thinks it will 'unify powers.' My life… is mine." The answer was firm, yet sweet, like ice that cuts without having to raise a voice.
Arthur didn't answer right away. But his smile grew wider, more sincere. Something rare.
He swirled the glass silently, watching the golden liquid shimmer under the lights of the room. Then he spoke. "And I would never allow my favorite little sister to be sold like a bracelet at auction."
"You say that now," she countered suspiciously.
"I've always said that," Arthur replied, touching her shoulder with an almost paternal gesture.
Lumine's eyes widened, not expecting that statement. For a second, the ice inside them melted.
"You're Edelweiss, Lumine. You're icy on the outside, but you don't let anyone make decisions for you. And if Dad tries to force anything on you... I swear, I'll take the contract, tear it to shreds, and even rub it in his face during Sunday dinner."
Lumine let out a muffled laugh, her eyes welling up. She tried to hide it; after all, tears in public? Unacceptable.
But Arthur saw.
She sniffed discreetly and hugged him, her arms wrapping around her brother tighter than she intended.
"Thank you, Arthur..."
"I'll always be by your side, snowman," he said, kissing the top of her head.
It was rare. Very rare.
But there, in the middle of a hall crowded with rotten interests, gilded masks and hollow alliances, a single true bond pulsed like a shooting star in the dark.
Lumine backed away a little, regaining her glacial posture. She discreetly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and smoothed her hair. "You're still an idiot, you know?"
"Yes. But I'm your favorite idiot."
She laughed, and for the first time that night, her smile wasn't formal.
The conversations around them became a symphony of hushed voices, negotiations disguised as compliments, and threats wrapped in champagne toasts.
Lumine looked around, resting her crystal glass on the edge of the cushioned sofa. Her icy blue eyes swept the room like sensors programmed to scan for...suitors.
'Let's see if there are any tolerable idiots around here,' she thought, amused.
His gaze fell on a nobleman with Latin features, a perfectly tailored suit, and a confident posture.
Good looking? Yes.
Title of Marquis? Yes.
A little smile from someone who thinks they've already won you over just by existing? Yes.
Three divorces, two public scandals, and a history of flirting with his own housemaids? Also yes.
Next.
She glanced at an American businessman—CEO of America's largest private airline network.
A tech titan. Not bad.
Good reputation in the market, zero scandals.
But... it was the embodiment of an emotional microwave.
Rigid and humorless, he seemed to think a "romantic date" included Excel spreadsheets and AI-reviewed prenuptial contracts.
Next.
A Southeast Asian prince, charming, elegant, with long hair tied in a bun. Excellent genetics, beautiful oratory, and smelling amazing.
But... three brides in three different countries. None of them know about the other.
"These men need a course in basic ethics," she muttered, bored.
Arthur noticed his sister's constant eye movement. "Crossing data?"
"Hunting rare specimens, brother," he replied without looking.
"Be careful. Even in this hall, there are wolves with gold ties."
"You raised me well. I can recognize wolves... and pigs in wolf's clothing."
Arthur laughed. "Just don't bite anyone. Yet."
Lumine smiled at the corner of her mouth, but her gaze was drawn to something, or rather someone, across the room. Her eyes narrowed.
Nicholas.
Nikoly stood next to the black glass bar, scanning the room with the coolness of a Japanese spy AI.
Unlike the extravagance of other noblewomen, Nikoly wore a minimalist black ensemble with fine gold details on the cuffs and waist, as if to say: "I can dominate this room without having to shout."
Short, slender, with almost translucent porcelain skin, her long, straight black hair flowed down her back like fresh paint. Her eyes? An abyss. Black, deep, unfathomable. She didn't smile—she didn't need to. Her very presence said, "Don't try to decipher. Just observe."
Lumine gave a small smile.
"That's my cue...I'm going to greet someone," she said to Arthur, adjusting her dress.
"Be careful. Eyes crawl around this room like cockroaches," he warned, raising his glass in warning.
Lumine followed her brother's gaze.
In fact, some older men, and even some young men, watched her with hungry eyes, as if her red dress were an invitation to decadence.
One of them even licked his lips as he met her gaze.
She made a point of staring at him coldly, raising a disdainful eyebrow, and turning her face away, as if he were a moldy wall in a public restroom.
'Imbeciles.'
Deftly dodging the stares, Lumine walked like a winter feline. Her dress fluttered in red waves around her legs, and her heels clicked on the marble floor like the gong of elegance.
As he approached Nikoly, his eyes lit up with an idea.
Lumine smiled... and jumped. "Boo!"
"AH!" Nikoly jumped slightly, turning her face wide-eyed for a second.
"Oh my God, Lumine!" she said in a low but clearly genuine tone. Her eyes soon returned to normal, but there was still a glint of indignant amusement in them.
Lumine laughed heartily. "You should have seen his face. If he were a ninja, he'd be dead."
"I'm a ninja. I was just in power-saving mode," Nikoly replied with that serious tone.
Lumine shook her head. "You're a marshmallow."
Nikoly looked away. "I take it back. You're the same insufferable person you always were."
The two stared at each other for a moment, and then laughed together, muffling their voices so as not to attract attention.
"How many eyes have you melted with that X-ray scanner look?" Lumine asked.
"Four businessmen, two princes, and a sommelier. But the bartender seems immune," Nikoly replied without hesitation.
"Let's stay together tonight. The wolves are hungry," Lumine said, linking her arm through Nikoly's.
"And we are the hunters, not the hunted," Nikoly added, a dark glint in her eye.
The two, side by side, advanced through the hall.