The laughter eventually died down as we sprawled around the room, the mood settling into something more relaxed. James was flipping through his phone, Ethan munching on what was left of the chips, and I leaned back against my bed, arms crossed behind my head.
"So," Luke started casually, "I won't be around Saturday night. Got this banquet thing to go to with my girlfriend."
I blinked, my thoughts coming to a halt.
'Wait. Banquet?'
I tried to keep my expression neutral, but my brain immediately made the connection. Saturday night. Banquet. The same one Oliver had invited me to.
'No way. It can't be the same one, right? There's probably a hundred banquets happening around the city. Rich people love excuses to dress up.'
But something in the way Luke said it—like it wasn't just some random event—made my gut twist.
"Banquet, huh?" James said, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't take you for the tux type."
Luke gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Her family's connected to one of the old houses. Some big birthday thing for one of their friends. Apparently it's important."
My eyes narrowed slightly. 'Birthday. Old houses. Important.'
My heart gave an odd little thump. There was no way this was just coincidence.
'It can't be the same talking about Oliver's banquet right?'
But I said nothing. Just smiled faintly, letting the conversation move on without me.
"That's adorable," Ethan teased. "Going as arm candy?"
Luke didn't even flinch. "I wear a suit better than all of you combined."
James let out a bark of laughter. "You keep telling yourself that, man."
I stayed quiet, watching them bicker and toss insults. The urge to say something tugged at me—but I pushed it down.
'What are the odds, really? One of my roommates going to the same exclusive event…? This world's smaller than I thought.'
I leaned back again, eyes on the ceiling.
'Well. That'll be interesting.'
And I couldn't help but wonder—just how much more tangled things were about to get.
The conversation rolled on, picking up energy again.
"So what are you guys wearing?" Ethan asked, stretching his arms behind his head. "I'm thinking navy. Can't go wrong with classic, right?"
James nodded. "Navy's solid. I've got this charcoal-gray set that makes me look like a Bond villain. Planning to rock that."
Luke smirked. "You mean like a discount Bond villain."
"Hey," James said, pretending to be offended, "it's tailored. That's all that matters."
They laughed, diving into an intense debate over tie colors, pocket squares, and whether cufflinks were too much or just enough.
I chuckled along at first—until it hit me like a rogue wave.
'Oh no.'
I stiffened slightly.
'I don't have a suit.'
Just like that, all the noise in the room faded into the background. While the others kept bantering, I sat there blinking, mentally sorting through everything I owned.
'Hoodies, tees, a pair of jeans… great for disappearing into a crowd. Not so great for a high-society banquet.'
How had I overlooked something this basic?
"So," I said casually, "just wondering… how soon do you usually get fitted for something like this?"
James raised an eyebrow. "For a banquet? Ideally a few days ago. You know, tailoring and all."
Ethan leaned forward. "Why? You already got yours, right?"
I hesitated. "Not exactly."
Luke squinted at me. "Wait, don't tell me… you don't even have one?"
I offered a sheepish smile. "It… may have slipped my mind."
There was a beat of silence before James broke into laughter.
"Man, you're kidding, right? That's like showing up to a duel without a sword."
"Hey, it's not like I get invited to this kind of thing every weekend," I muttered, half-laughing, half-panicking. "I didn't expect to be going in the first place."
Luke tossed a pillow at me. "Well, better get moving. Tailors are gonna charge you a fortune for rush jobs."
Ethan nodded. "Or you could hit a high-end boutique. They might have something off-the-rack that fits decent."
I nodded, playing it cool.
'Yeah… or I could ask the system,' I thought dryly. 'Assuming it doesn't hand me a tux made of light and illusions.'
This was going to be a very long weekend.
The next morning came far too quickly.
Sunlight filtered in through the half-closed blinds, casting thin golden stripes across the dorm floor. The usual hum of voices and footsteps was gone—James, Ethan, and Luke had left early, off to brunch and tuxedo hunting like proper gentlemen of society.
I, meanwhile, was still lying in bed, battling an existential crisis over my utter lack of formalwear.
'I have nothing to wear,' I muttered, staring blankly at the ceiling.
It wasn't even a shallow problem. Not here. Not in this world. You didn't show up to a high-profile banquet looking like a lost intern. You showed up like you belonged—tailored, pressed, and worth a small fortune.
And I had... well, a nice hoodie?
I groaned and sat up, burying my face in my hands.
[You seem troubled, Cedric.]
'Really? You don't say.'
[Is this about the suit?]
I dropped my hands and sighed. 'Yes. I can't exactly roll into the banquet wearing my campus hoodie and a dream.'
[Understood. Preparing a solution.]
Before I could argue or even ask what that meant, a glowing notification pulsed in the corner of my vision.
[One (1) High-End Formal Suit from Luxeon has been acquired.]
I blinked. 'Wait—Luxeon? As in the Luxeon? World-class, invitation-only, "we-don't-even-advertise-because-our-clients-are-that-rich" Luxeon?'
[Correct. A limited-edition piece, hand-stitched by Master Tailor Garen himself.]
My mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
'How—what—why?'
[You required a suit. I delivered the best.]
I rubbed my temple. 'You make it sound like you just ordered pizza.'
[Would you prefer pizza?]
'No! I mean—thank you. Seriously. I just… I wasn't expecting that.'
[A Luxeon suit befits your current lifestyle and presence. It is now waiting in your wardrobe.]
I stood slowly, still in a daze, and made my way to the wardrobe. Sure enough, tucked neatly inside was a garment bag with the Luxeon emblem—subtle, classy, and utterly intimidating.
'I don't know whether to cry or bow,' I muttered.
[Neither is necessary. Just don't spill anything on it.]
'Right. No pressure.'
As much as I wanted to admire the suit right then and there, I knew better. Luxeon wasn't something you tried on casually. It deserved space, silence, and a full-length mirror that wasn't smeared with toothpaste or covered in post-it notes.
I had to return to Villa Élysée.
I packed a small bag, pulled on a jacket, and slipped out of the dorm before the others came back. One quiet taxi ride later, the familiar cliffside estate came into view.
The sea breeze greeted me as I stepped through the gates, and the distant hum of waves brushing the rocks reminded me how different this place was from everything else.
Villa Élysée had become a strange sort of sanctuary.
Inside, I brought the Luxeon garment bag upstairs to the master suite. Just unzipping it felt like unlocking something forbidden.
The suit inside was... unreal.
Midnight black with faint silver accents, sleek and sharp with a fluid sheen that shifted with the light. It didn't just look expensive. It looked powerful.
'Alright,' I murmured. 'Let'ssee what all the fuss is about.'
I changed, the fabric molding to my frame as if tailored by magic.
No bunching, no awkward gaps—just a perfect, seamless fit. The collar sat clean against my neck, the cuffs hugged just right. I turned toward the mirror, expecting to feel like a kid playing dress-up.
But the reflection staring back was someone different.
Poised. Composed. Dangerous, even.
I barely recognized myself.
'Damn.'
The system chimed in with a smug note.
[This suit enhances charisma by 10%.]
I blinked. 'Are you serious?'
[Quite. Luxeon's high-rank tailors embed subtle enchantments into limited-edition pieces. Think of it as... a passive buff.]
I let out a dry laugh. 'So I'm literally wearing a charisma upgrade.'
[Exactly.]
I ran a hand down the lapel, still watching my reflection.
'I guess I'm ready for the banquet after all.'
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the mirror like it might glitch and show me someone else entirely.
Was that really me?
The cut of the suit was flawless—midnight black, with that subtle silver thread gleaming faintly under the light. It clung to me like it belonged, like I belonged. The reflection staring back wasn't the quiet, observant guy who slipped through life unnoticed.
No. This version of me looked like he knew exactly who he was.
'This is ridiculous,' I muttered under my breath, but I couldn't look away.
I raised a hand to adjust the collar—unnecessary, really, but it gave me something to do. My fingers brushed the fabric, cool and smooth, and I felt it again—that subtle hum beneath the surface. An enchantment, the system said.
[You look the part, Cedric.]
I almost scoffed. 'I look like I walked out of a luxury campaign ad. Who is this guy?'
[You, of course.]
I shook my head, laughing quietly. 'Right. Me.'
But it didn't feel like a lie. Not entirely. It just felt... unfamiliar. Like I was catching up to the person I was supposed to become.
For a long while, I didn't say anything. I just stood there, watching the version of myself I hadn't seen before. Someone polished. Sharp. Dangerous, even.
And for once, I didn't feel like an outsider.
I looked like I belonged.