The beauty event rolled on like a parade of dreams—contestant after contestant stepping onto the stage, each with practiced poise, sparkling dresses, and confident smiles. The sun was dipping low, but the lights around the Zaherra Park stage glowed brighter, stealing the evening.
From the crowd, Eucliea and Alethea sat with crossed legs, ice creams replaced by chilled lemon sodas, watching the show with half-interest and half-commentary. Sathvic had his arms folded like a theater critic, and Raga had somehow ended up with three glow sticks and was cheering randomly.
Meanwhile, backstage, Zorion stood behind the curtains, hands clasped in prayer, whispering to every god he could name.
"Please let me win. Or not lose badly."
He peeked at the mirror. His shirt had wrinkles. His hair was like a jungle. But he still stood tall.
Back outside, the host announced, "We now begin the final batch! Contestants 550 through 600—please step forward! You have ten minutes!"
A new group walked out. This wasn't just any group—this batch had energy. Confidence. Charisma. But as they reached the center stage…
Eucliea sat up straight.
Her drink nearly tilted.
"…Why is she here?" she said.
Alethea glanced up. "Who?"
Sathvic and Raga followed her gaze. A hush fell around them, and then an audible wave of gasps echoed across the park.
Center stage, in a flowing blue dress that shimmered with each movement, stood a girl who looked like she walked out of a painting. Graceful, effortless, and clearly not a normal contestant.
Sathvic blinked. "Who is that?"
"Somebody important, I'm guessing," Raga whispered, dazzled.
But before Alethea could react, she noticed Sathvic staring a little too long. Her eyes narrowed. She pinched his side, sharp and immediate.
"Ow!" Sathvic flinched. "I was—uh—I was looking at the dress! You'd look just as stunning in it. I swear."
Alethea's cheeks puffed out, unimpressed. Her face turned red—not from the heat.
Backstage, Zorion had no idea someone famous had entered. He was still praying.
Eucliea didn't take her eyes off the stage. "She is Ellyse Stokes."
Sathvic raised an eyebrow. "That name sounds… expensive."
Eucliea nodded slowly. "She's Zaherra's pride. Ranked number one in the world for women's tennis. Plays like fire, moves like wind. Won every major title by the age of twenty-two. You're looking at one of the best athlete this country has produced in decades."
Sathvic whistled low. "Damn."
"And," Eucliea added, now sipping her drink again, "she's dating Zahir."
Alethea blinked. "Zahir as in… the duo football team captain?"
"Mhmm," Eucliea said dryly. "Power couple of the century."
Ten minutes passed.
Then came the moment of truth.
The host returned to center stage, holding a card.
"Well, well, well," he said with a smile too wide to be casual. "We all saw the reaction of the crowd. It was almost unfair to the others, but rules are rules. From the crowd voting, the winner is…"
Dramatic pause.
"Ellyse Stokes!"
The crowd erupted.
Eucliea's expression? Mildly happy.
Zorion, on the other hand, checked the results screen backstage.
He squinted.
"…Four votes?"
They were.
Eucliea.
Alethea.
Sathvic.
Some guy who was supposed to vote for his girlfriend but got the number wrong.
Raga was too young to vote.
The guy's girlfriend? Got zero votes.
So, in an ironic twist of fate, Zorion hadn't come last.
He looked up, weirdly proud. "I wasn't last."
---
Outside the stage gates, the crowd was slowly leaving. Cameras flashed, fans crowded near the railings, shouting and waving. Ellyse stood in the center, posing politely with the grace of someone used to attention.
Narrator (briefly): Though volva devices were common across Zaherra, most lacked cameras.
The moment felt wrapped in gold.
And then Ellyse turned.
Her eyes landed on Eucliea.
She said a quick goodbye to her fans, handed a flower to a child, and went towards Eucliea.
"Eucliea?"
Eucliea blinked. "Ellyse."
The famous girl smiled. "What are you doing here? Who are these people?"
Eucliea, with practiced calm, replied, "Just roaming around with these people from Indra. Showing them Hestan. Letting them see Zaherra through a local's eyes."
Ellyse looked them over—Alethea half-smiling, Sathvic half-hiding behind his sarcasm, Raga adjusting his too-big hat, and Zorion walking over with the smug confidence of a man who had tasted victory… of not coming dead last.
Ellyse raised an eyebrow. "Indrans, huh? Interesting company."
Eucliea shrugged. "Better than they look. Sometimes."
Zorion said to Raga. "Hey you didnt vote for me."
Ellyse blinked.
Eucliea facepalmed.
Alethea sighed. "Let's go before he enters a cooking contest next."
Sathvic nodded. "And poisons the judges."
Raga added, "Or wins!"
They laughed. Even Ellyse chuckled.
The sun was gone now. But the night was full of lights, laughter, and—somehow—friendship.
Zorion looked up at the starless sky, and whispered to himself, "Still four votes, though."
Eucliea tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "Ellyse… why'd you even enter a small-time annual contest like this? You're literally Zaherra's biggest sports icon."
Ellyse grinned, flipping a lock of hair behind her shoulder. "I was bored. I've got to fly to South Astria tomorrow for the Tennis World Cup." She gave a playful shrug. "Figured I'd drop by, feel myself a little, steal the spotlight."
Alethea whispered to Sathvic, "That's what confidence on a global level looks like."
Ellyse took a graceful step forward, ready to introduce herself to the rest of the group—
—but her eyes caught something over Eucliea's shoulder.
Walking toward them, holding a white cake box in both hands like a priceless artifact, was Phylax.
Ellyse raised a brow and smirked at Eucliea. "So… he's here too."
Eucliea turned to look behind, went slightly pink. "Yeah… he just went out to buy a cake."
"Oh really?" Ellyse's grin widened, clearly amused.
Eucliea straightened up, suddenly bashful. "I'll be back. Give us a moment?"
She hurried away, leaving Ellyse standing with the Indra group—Sathvic, Alethea, and a confused Zorion who leaned toward Alethea and whispered, "Am I supposed to know who that sparkly tennis lady is?"
Alethea just patted his shoulder. "Just smile and nod, you're not in her league."
—
Near a quiet bench just off the pathway, Eucliea and Phylax finally met halfway.
Phylax gently held out the cake box. "Here. From your favorite place. Got the frosting design you like too."
He looked almost apologetic as he opened his mouth to speak. "Listen, what happened earlier was a misunderstanding. First, I thought you were already with Eirene, then I thought maybe I could just make it up by—"
Eucliea reached out and softly pressed her finger to his lips.
"It's okay," she said, her voice much gentler than before. "You don't have to explain. I already know. It was just a mistake."
Her eyes softened as she looked at him.
"I just got angry… because you left me alone."
Phylax frowned, his guilt visible. "But that wasn't what I—"
She smiled, keeping her finger on his lips. "I know."
They stood there for a second—quiet, warm, close. The kind of silence that wasn't awkward but comforting.
Phylax slowly reached up to hold her hand from his lips. "So… can I still get a bite of the cake?"
Eucliea chuckled. " We will eat it later."
They turned, walking back slowly together—her shoulder brushing his as the tension between them quietly melted like frosting on a warm day.