Morning fell quietly.
No loud banging, harsh voices, or sudden movements-no, just a slow slithering of light into the walls and an occasional soft shuffle of fabric organized by Chester, who had some rolls of cloth piled in a corner.
The air in the room felt warm but didn't feel stuffy. Calm, but not peaceful. A strange sort of stillness filled the air as if something important were about to happen, like the deep breath just before it.
Lily stood in the middle of the room, her arms loose in front of her. Nothing showed on her face. She wasn't herself. Not after what happened last night. She's on guard.
Since last night, she has been speaking less. Luc-no. Cameron-revealed everything. The weight the name, the threat, and the impossible choice sat in her chest.
But today, he wasn't hiding behind any mask.
Just Cameron.
No performative dramatics. No persona.
He wore plain black, rolled up to his elbows, and the hair was ruffled like he either was not a good sleeper or did not care. There were delicate shadows under his eyes, full alertness, just focused.
He stood by a tall drafting table, sketchbook in front of him, a black pencil gliding over paper like it had a mind of its own.
Chester moved fluidly through the space, with quiet energy, organizing rolls of fabric and pinning swatches alongside the board. Silks in pastel, velvets in deep greens and blues, tulle, denim, leather, and lace-all pieces of potential waiting for shape.
There was silence between her and Cameron until he finally spoke.
"I need your measurements"he said simply.
He spoke softly so that he would not shatter the quiet that surrounded them, but it was firm underneath. Not quite a command. Not quite a request either. It was just a statement. A step forward.
Lily locked eyes upon him.
There was no fear in her eyes. Not trust, either. But a shift had happened overnight. A silent understanding, maybe. A truce, temporary and fragile.
She nodded once.
Chester walked toward her with a soft cloth tape measure.
"Tell me if you're uncomfortable" he started.
"Just do it," she said, raising her arms slightly.
Chester wasted no time. He moved precisely; his voice quiet enough for everyone since he read the numbers, almost more to himself than to them.
"Bust, thirty-two. Waist, twenty-two. Hips, thirty-four."
He then stepped back so he could check her profile from a few more steps
"Height, one-seventy centimeters; weight, forty-seven kilos. Bra size, thirty-two A."
Cameron started sketching again by now. He has not lifted his eyes from the page.
"She has classic model build," said Chester while glancing at the lines forming on the papers.
"But softer,"said Cameron, smiling slightly.
Lily's body was every designer's dream.
Long legs with a tiny waist and curves that held shape without overpowering her frame.
Yet it was not only those proportions that mattered.
She held herself balanced. Poised without effort, even barefoot and surrounded by strangers.
Her face matched: striking, but somehow more subtle. It had that kind of beauty that did not scream for attention but pulled your eyes anyway.
An oval face, softly contoured, with high cheekbones and a graceful jawline that gave her an almost delicate look, like something drawn carefully by hand.
Her dark brown eyes were almond-shaped and wide-set, framed by thick, naturally arched brows. They made her look open, innocent even.
But also, sharp. Watchful.
Her mouth was a soft, pink, slightly fuller down under, with a neatly shaped cupid's bow. A mouth that deserved either vintage red lipstick or nothing at all.
There was a stillness to her beauty. Classical yet adaptable.
She could sport any attire. Color ball gowns, minimalist jumpsuits, streetwear, structured couture, fun skirts, and tailored pants. She could wear any mood, any vision, and become that.
And Cameron, no, Luc saw it. He saw it all.
But more than that, he saw something else.
The spark.
She was more than someone to design for.
She was the design.
"You blend so well with any fabric; I just wish I had the capacity to elaborate on it more,"Chester murmured one more time, taking a step backward.
Cameron remained silent. He was looking at her not as a model or a tool, but as an artist looking at the very shape that had existed in his mind for years.
Then he turned once again to the paper.
He picked up his pencil and went on sketching.
Fast. Fluid. Like something that had been in him all this while, just bursting to come out.
No questions were asked. No hesitations were made. It was instinct.
Almost like, as he put the pencil down the outline, he already knew what Lily should wear.
First, something architectural-sketchy-sharp lines-the gown that was shattered-glass-like in layers.
Then something softer. Silk silhouette, and near-nude straps, and moves like liquid light.
Bold next, a short dress cut asymmetric, a play of shadow and colors.
Lily moved quietly, observing him.
He was different today. Something was stripped down. Not cold-not Cameron. Luc at the moment-the boy who began with underground shows with nothing more than a handful of stolen fabrics and a vision mapped out in his head.
He looked unreal.
Still intense, still complicated. But human.
And something about it that she didn't like it. She tilted her head, arms crossed lightly, watching how his hand moved, pressing harder with the pencil when the idea took hold.
Finally, she spoke.
Her voice was soft but pointed.
"You're not creating me."
Cameron didn't miss a beat as his eyes remained fixated on the sketchbook, his hand still working.
"I don't need to."
There it was, the truth. Quiet. Heavy. Inescapable.
He didn't have to create her.
She existed already.
Lily walked forward slowly, halting against the table next to him, staring at the sketches-draft shapes, trying to materialize.
She spent a moment draught watching.
She took a long stare at him, bent before this sketchbook-perhaps the very depths of his soul. There was an earnestness in that. Almost vulnerable. Like in drawing, he didn't know how to lie. And Lily disliked it. She remembered the pact they had drawn last night.
"Just to be clear, I'm not doing this for you"she muttered.
He finally raised his gaze.
"I don't expect you to," he said.
The muscles of her jaw tightened slightly.
They stood in silence again. Cameron flipped to a new page and started another design-this one sharper, edgier; not really armor, but close: something a queen would wear into a war she intended to win.
"Every empire has its downfall,"Cameron said. "Faith and Hope built theirs on exploitation. On cruelty. On stolen greatness."
"And you're going to take it down with… fashion?"she raised an eyebrow.
"Not only fashion,"he answered. "Symbols. Power. Perception. They rule by telling the world what's beautiful. What matters. What sells. I want to break that. Rebuild it."
"And you need me for that?"
"I don't just need you," he said quietly. "You're the image I've been chasing since the beginning."
Lily narrowed her eyes. "That sounds creepy."
Cameron issued a dry laugh. "It probably is."
Chester had kept pinning fabric samples on the mood board, looking between the two of them yet remaining silent; he knew better than to interrupt when Cameron got like this.
Lily turned back to the sketches. Her fingers brushed against the edge of the paper before being pulled back. She despised admitting it, but for some reason, there was something strange about seeing herself in those lines: A version of her that felt bold. Controlled. Not like a prisoner or a pawn.
More like a weapon.
"You really think I'm going to forget what you did to get me here?"she said softly.
"No,"Cameron replied. "I expect you to remember every second of it."
His eyes found hers then, calm, unwavering.
"And just to be clear also, I was never wrong about you."
Something in her stomach twisted. She hated how much confidence he had.
But she hated even more how, for that split second, she believed him.
And she hated the most that it didn't feel like a trap anymore.
It felt like a choice.
And that was a lot harder to face.
Cameron stood up and said smilingly, "Tomorow, we'll start sewing. Pack your bags guys. We'll be in the workroom for 11 days straight."