[Imperial Capital – Grand Atelier of Saint Veloria, Bridal Floor]
If gods ever designed a department store, this was it.
Marble floors glistened like they'd been polished by baby angels on glitter-duty. Chiffon curtains billowed in a breeze that did not physically exist. Mannequins posed like they were about to walk into an opera full of betrayals and extremely tight corsets. Somewhere in the distance, a live harpist casually played a slow romantic melody while sipping boba through a golden straw.
Lucien stood at the entrance like a prophet entering paradise. His eyes widened. His lips parted. He clutched Elise's hand like a Victorian maiden seeing a chandelier for the first time.
"I feel like I've entered a cathedral of fashion," he whispered, reverently. "I might start levitating. I'm not even joking."
