The hallway they stepped into was blindingly white that Verdamona squinted at first..Norphie walked ahead of them in her feminine form. As they walked, Norphie began to talk.
"You know, gothic designs have always fascinated me not just because of the dark glamour but because of what they represent. Rebellion. Power. Oh, and the ability to dominate a room without saying a single word."
"And yet, you only started experimenting with gothic after I asked you, didn't you?"
Norphie chuckled. It was a soft, almost melodic laugh that could have belonged to either gender.
"You were the very first person who asked me to create gothic designs, Xaessia. Before you, my clients wanted glamour or the standard House arrogance stitched into fabric. You know, bland vanity. Then you came marching in, demanding goth outfits."
Verdamona glanced between them, feeling like she was listening to two old friends digging up golden memories. Norphie's words painted Xaessia differently than she had ever imagined her. She was not just as a terrifying, commanding sister but as someone who pushed boundaries without even realizing it.
"I did my research. I dove into every era, from medieval elegance to modern underground places. I started making gothic casuals, gothic formals and even gothic streetwear. But you only ever took the long dresses, those... dramatic, Victorian gowns, as if you were attending the a masquerade every night. You clung to the idea of being untouchable and regal."
Xaessia scoffed lightly. "And what's wrong with that? It suits me."
"It suits a queen who never takes her crown off but I always wanted you to try something else. Something freer."
As if on cue, the end of the hallway bloomed open. The white walls split seamlessly and a hidden room revealed itself in a slow, graceful slide of stone.
Verdamona's jaw dropped.
Inside, it was like stepping into the dark heart of a dream. Mannequins lined every wall, each draped in a unique gothic creation. There were leather jackets with silver-thread embroidery shaped like roses, corset blouses paired with skirts that shimmered faintly, leggings with thorn-like patterns etched into the seams, dark trench coats lined with crimson silk, flowing scarves with hidden stitching that seemed to pulse when caught in the light... from casual day outfits to regal evening wear, the collection was endless.
Verdamona whispered without meaning to.
"This is… hundreds, maybe more."
"These are the designs I make in my free time. Think of them as experiments and thought stitched into fabric. I hoped someone would wear them someday.and in truth, Xaessia, I always dreamed you'd be the one to wear them. Because you're the only one bold enough to make the world notice."
Xaessia turned to her.
"Why me? Out of all your clients, why make an entire vault of clothing just for me?"
"Because out of every customer I've ever had, you and your brother stood out. Most people wanted perfection. You two wanted identity. You challenged me. You pushed me to try things even the Houses would laugh at. That's rare, Xaessia. It's rare enough that I built an entire sanctuary for it."
Xaessia didn't answer. Her usual sharp tongue faltered, replaced with genuine shock, maybe even gratitude, though she hid it behind her smirk. Norphie clapped her hands suddenly, her playful grin snapping the tension.
"So! To celebrate you finally deciding to stop being an arrogant little asshole to your handsome twin brother—"
"I'm not—"
"—I'm giving you all of this for free."
The silence that followed was thick. Verdamona nearly tripped at the sheer audacity of the statement. Xaessia's eyes widened, actually breaking character.
"You're joking. This... this entire collection? That's at least half a million dollars' worth. And how the hell am I supposed to carry all of them at once?"
Norphie chuckled, brushing a golden strand of hair behind her ear.
"Darling, I have connections to everything involving the Houses, including your university. Do you think I'd dump five hundred thousand dollars' worth of fabric in your arms like a cheap vendor? I'll deliver them straight to your door. No one even has to know how."
Verdamona muttered under her breath. "That's terrifying… and impressive."
Suddenly, one of the mannequins in the room twitched. It stepped forward, no longer a lifeless figure, but a moving doll draped in an outfit that seemed designed to slice through reality itself. Black leggings clung to its slender legs, patterned with faint silver filigree shaped like thorn vines. A pleated skirt sat layered above it, stitched in midnight velvet. Over that, a tight corset blouse hugged the waist, its edges lined in deep blood-red lace. And atop it all, a fitted black jacket, long-sleeved finished the design.
The mannequin slowly walked to Xaessia before stopping directly in front of her like a servant awaiting orders.
"Change. Now. This one was made for you."
Xaessia rolled her eyes, but her hand was already reaching for the jacket. She gave Verdamona one last look before turning on her heel. The mannequin followed silently behind her like a loyal pet, escorting her into the polished changing rooms at the far end of the hall.
And then, it was quiet with just Verdamona and Norphie. The blonde designer leaned back against a mannequin draped in a crimson gown, folding her arms. Her voice lowered.
"Tell me something, Verdamona. Are you a God-touched Fluxer?"
Verdamona froze. Her breath caught in her throat before she could stop it. Her first instinct was to laugh it off or dismiss it as some kind of twisted joke but the way Norphie was watching her told her that it wasn't a question meant to be brushed aside. Her lips parted, but the only thing she could manage was a whisper.
"I don't know what that is."
Norphie didn't push. Instead, she tilted her head and walked slowly toward the nearest mannequin, her fingers grazing across the fabric of a jacket stitched with black roses.
"Of course you don't. No one ever tells the God-touched what they are. Not until it's too late."
Norphie chuckled lightly under her breath and turned her back to her. As she trailed her fingers along the mannequins, her tone shifted from playful designer to seriousness.
"Sixteen years ago in Te Waipounamu island, there was a little town by the coast thet was gone in one night. Torn apart, they said, by Fluviums."
Verdamona's mouth went dry.
"No one survived except for one little girl found clutching the blood-soaked bodies of her parents. She was seven years old, crying in the ruins while soldiers tried to piece together what had happened. That girl was you, wasn't it?"
Verdamona couldn't hide her reaction this time. Her chest heaved as memories crashed into her.
"How do you... how do you know that?"
Norphie didn't answer immediately. She strolled as she examined another outfit before she spoke again.
"The North New Island government didn't know why you survived. They took you in, placed you in an orphanage, gave you Combat Flux lessons to make you useful. Then they polished you up and handed you a scholarship. It was a brand-new life and a chance for you to live life. And you met Xaessiarerich."
Verdamona's throat tightened. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
"You became her friend. You leaned on her. She filled the hole left in you after your family was gone. But then you abandoned her. And what did she do, Verdamona? She turned cold. She turned cruel. She built yourself up out of spite and survival until there was nothing left but make her brother suffer for that."
"Stop."
But Norphie didn't stop.
"The reports didn't explain why you lived when no one else did because they didn't know. They assumed it was dumb luck or the resilience of a stubborn child. But I don't believe in luck. So I did my own research."
Verdamona's eyes flickered with fear. "What do you mean?"
"There were no Fluviums that night. Not one. Do you understand? There were only Officia Fluxers. It was a House attack, perfectly hidden. They burned the evidence, killed the witnesses and left nothing behind except you."
Verdamona's breath stuttered. She gritted her teeth, but her hands were trembling now.
"I know."
"Ah. So you do remember. You knew all along but the government didn't have proof. No one believed the words of a seven-year-old who claimed Fluxers destroyed her village. Easier to blame Fluviums and bury the truth."
Verdamona staggered back a step.
"Who are you? Who the hell are you to know all this?"
"Verdamona, I am Norphie Phoenicia. And you don't run the largest fashion boutique froze the world where the Houses themselves come crawling for a taste of glamour without knowing everything about them."
She stepped closer, close enough that Verdamona could smell the faint perfume on her blouse. It was something sweet and metallic, like roses dipped in blood.
"I don't just dress them. I study them. I catalog them. I learn their weaknesses and their secrets because in a world like this, clothes are only the surface. Power is what lies beneath the fabric."