Chapter 1

Krystal can be the most patient person anyone could have ever met. That's the truth. She can endure anyone's tardiness because she knows herself the importance of ignoring your work sometimes, as long as you won't get too comfortable with being lazy. She also understands when a model doesn't feel like in the 'carpet' or 'in front of the camera'. All models get those kind of days where they regret entering the fashion world and can't eat carbs for the love of highness. That's particularly one of the thing the models Krystal hates the most because she pities them.

All in all, she's patient. In department of love life, though.. Not so much. She could care less for all she can. Plus the fact that she identifies herself as aromantic, or ace, because she's never felt in love at all. She's not all asexual, for she sees the fun in intimate thing like kissing and cuddling, but she knows it's not for her.

She's too much in love with her work and also too much in love with the concept of loving herself.

That's the sole reason why she keeps a deadpan expression as she watches Marcella, one of the art directors of Daunt Magazine, tear everyone's ears off as she retells for the umpteenth time how her Mexican boyfriend –now fiancé– proposed to her.

"And! And! He said there was supposed to be hot air balloon and it was ready to get fired but apparently, you need permit from the local government of the town before displaying something that big. I mean, it's grand, the hot air balloon, though I think the firework display and him kneeling in front of me is enough. It's not like I would say 'no' to him, anyway!"

Krystal doesn't roll her eyes. No, that's rude. That's also nothing to scoff at. Marcella and her boyfriend can do what they want. But if you ask Krystal if she would like a proposal like that, then no thanks. She would exit without anyone noticing if that were to happen to her. She hates public humiliation. And for her, in her own preference, that's one of those.

Imagine if you don't want to get married and you got cornered like that in public? Proposals really need to get discussed first, in her opinion.

"Are you done dilly dallying?" another one from the art department asks sassily. Krystal likes him. Or her. Whatever pronoun this person likes. But today, George is completely a he.

Marcella rolls her eyes and goes back to stacking boxes of berrets on the cart.

As she saunter towards the art department, George is muttering about obnoxious women and their obsession about making men all giggling and giddy and how he thinks it's disgusting because only fashion is not disgusting in this world, and Krystal finds herself laughing. The art director turns to her in shock, but immediately recovers and waves at her. Krystal replies with a salute and smirks when George walks towards her.

"Would you believe me if I tell you I'm gay but I hate men with passion?" George asks with a cringe. Krystal giggles.

"I mean, I understand. Men are weird. They can use the same towel they wipe their groin with and use it all over their body and still won't get herpes. It's kind of unfair, yeah?"

George sighs sadly. "That's why I prefer men of passion. They know how to separate face towel from body towel. And they use face serum."

"And toner," Krystal adds playfully.

"Yeah, toner," George sighs dreamily. "And cleanser. And sun protection. Don't they get tanned lines?"

Krystal shrugs. "Off season, maybe? If they don't need to grace the catwalk, I think."

"Who do you think is the hottest model today? You meet them a lot, right? I mean, I meet models a lot, it's my job. But you get to actually touch them, right? Not inappropriately, but you need to actually turn them around and sideways to check their looks with your creation of clothes, yeah?"

Krystal shrugs. "They're fine," she then grins wickedly. "I thought you hate men?"

George rolls his eyes. "Men of fashion are not men. They're arts."

Krystal laughs heartily. She then pats George's shoulder. "Be careful with pedestal thing, George. Just like the song said, don't fall in love with a dreamer."

She waves to George as she saunters towards the photo studio. Daunt Magazine's studio is not the best photo studio Krystal ever went to. But the utility is enough to survive the current photoshoot. Her clothing line –Hugace, read as Yugachee, not hageys, thank you very much– is littered around the studio. Hanging on the racks and dozen of staff hanging the clothes in their forearms waiting to get called, the whole studio is the kind of mess Krystal is getting used to, now.

She knows her creation is new in the scene, only making her luxury brand at the age of 22 and thriving now at the age of 27, Hugace is doing better than anyone can expect from a novice clothing line.

But maybe, connection and privilege really works, for Krystal came from a family of models. It's not just her forte, unlike her cousins who are all signed with GMI Modelling; the largest and most successful agency in fashion world.

And for that, Krystal is thankful despite the privilege, for her luxury brand is doing better than she can hope for. She can feel that content feeling as she watches the surrounding of the studio being graced with her creation. The skirts the models are wearing, the berrets she spent lots of months to draft and modify that would fit the current autumn season, the block heels she spent walking with to try them themselves, the checkered tweed cardigans she sewed the first draft with her own hands enduring a lot of pin poking on her skin. It's beautiful being in this world. It's a dream.

She misses a woman walking towards her. She only notices when she hears her name being called.

"Miss Krystal Hugace?"

Krystal, with her arms crossed on her chest, only tilts her head towards the woman talking to her. She perks up when she sees her wearing her creations; the berret, the top and bottom tweed clothes, block pumps that could rival even Fertace's pumps. Not that Krystal would tell anyone about the comment some models saying her pumps is much more comfortable to wear than the trending Fertace's pumps.

"Yeah?" Krystal replies with a blink, a quering tone in her voice. "That's me."

The model beams. "I'm a big fan! I uhm, from GMI agency. And I've been pestering my boss to make me work with you. I'm so happy right now! Though this is more like Daunt recruiting us for their Magazine and having to wear your creation, this is more than enough!"

Krystal lets out an amused smile at that and looks at the model up and down. They're almost at the same height, with Krystal also wearing her luxury brand's block heels. She smirks.

"Why? What kind of work are you expecting with me? Isn't this a normal project?"

Seemingly not bothered by her teasing, the model giggles and says, "I actually want to pose for your brand. For your website. Or walk on shows wearing your creation. They reminds me of Y2K fashion with touch of this generation's taste. It's really fascinating, especially your last spring collection you showed at Milan? It was gorgeous! Especially the dress with the jewelry arm cuff! I love it!"

Krystal blinks in surprised. She's not new to compliments being thrown at her. She lives in a world where compliments are normal so does judgement. So it's not new to her. But seeing this woman gushing about her creation, and with how she practically begs to be in her next photoshoot or project, one would think the model is in desperate situation and wants a job.

But Krystal knew of her. She sees her in magazines with her cousins, doing walks for Fertace, Louie, Vendetta Saliv, Vivwest, and lots of old luxury brands. She's probably one of those models you get to see in model ranking. And Krystal has seen her multiple times to know that her name is Suzy.

And she gushes about Krystal's works in details; clear fascination and admiration in her voice and expression. Krystal ponders.

She looks around, checking if there are people nearby to hear what's she's going to say, and turns to Suzy again when she's sure no one can hear them.

Recruiting models are not new to the scene like this. But envy is inevitable. If other models find out that Suzy bags a modelling project while on photoshoot, they might prey on the model. Krystal thinks she's nice, like a sunshine and she would feel sorry if someone ever throw bulls to Suzy because of that. She scoots closer and smiles, this time, warm and not any inkling of teasing. Warm, but full of business. Suzy seem to familiarize the kind of smile for she starts to open her mouth in a gasp.

"Tell your manager that I'll be having audition for my new collection this coming February Cruise. Send me all the profiles you have. Don't tell any soul."

Suzy squeals but slaps a hand in her mouth to stop any noise from coming out. Krystal laughs a little at that and waves the model away.

"Your manager can come to my headquarter this week or next week. Whenever works. The receptionist will take care of the rest."

"Do I have to go with her?" Suzy asks excitedly. "Bella –she's your cousin, right?– I heard from her that she's been trying to get a modeling project with you! Is she also auditioning?"

Krystal shrugs at that with a smile. "I'm not rejecting her in purpose. My creation's just not suited for her. But this new collection for February Cruise, something might. So you don't need to go with your manager and just show at the audition. You might meet Bella there."

After exchanging pleasantries, Krystal waits in the corner as she lets her director assistant, Dalia, to be on commando during the photoshoot. She's here to check Dalia's performance, anyways. Her assistant can do whatever she wants today. And with how Dalia holds the staffs and command the flock of stylists what to do, Krystal thinks her life is in better place. Everything is going fine and even better. Life is good.

----

After a gruelling whole day of photoshoot, Krystal finds herself walking inside her headquarter. The receptionist perks up seeing her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Krystal," the receptionist greets her with enthusiasm. "How's your day?"

The designer rolls her eyes and cracks her neck to the side; her left hand on her nape touching the knots on there. Krystal groans.

Her short hair's tips –or split ends– pokes on her hand's skin, making her cringe. She needs a hair cut at this point, but her hair is too short for now. Maybe, next time.

"Tiring," comes her reply. She then turns to the clock behind the receptionist, and sees the clock showing it's thirty five minutes passed three in the afternoon. That means she still has more than an hour to clock out, though she doesn't really have to follow the working time for she's the boss in here.

Still a funny and fascinating thought.

Remembering Suzy, Krystal knocks on the counter to get the receptionist's attention. The woman behind the counter turns to her so immediate in rapt attention.

"Yes?" the receptionist asks.

"This one's not certain, but I want you to check up on model Suzy from GMI agency. Her contacts and manager. I want you to know her manager's name in case they come here to look for me. Just so you're aware 'cause I don't know her manager so I can't tell you a name for appointment."

The receptionist gives her smile and nods. "Will do, Miss Hugace."

Once finished talking to the receptionist, and asking to send a cup of coffee to her if a staff happens to come by, she saunters towards her office. Upon seeing the couch inside the office, Krystal groans. The couch is the most she invested for, paying hundred of dollars to obtain such high quality couch in mahogany and the softest material the world can offer, and just the sight of it is enough to send Krystal to euphoria.

She slumps on the couch and enjoys the comfort it brings. Oh, how joy it gives after such a tiring day. Especially, after dealing with a bunch of people she's not used to work with, despite her being committed to her profession which means she's willing to work with everyone she must work with but sometimes, you gotta feel off, right? And this day has been one of those off days despite meeting a potential model she could recruit for the cruise.

Speaking of the February cruise which is in four months from now, wouldn't it be just nice to have it in Milan instead of New York? She misses Milan, it's been months since she's taken a step on her favorite place. She's actually finished now with her final drafts for the cruise and only have to modify if she happens to change her mind, does that mean she has free time now and can go visit Milan? That actually sounds nice–

Her office's door opening in a loud bang. Sarah, her personal assistant, is heaving in her pencil skirt and chiffon off shoulder top. Which looks funny on her but the obvious panic in her face is what stops Krystal in her tracks from giggling.

"Something wrong? What happened?"

"Krys, someone's looking for you and he's so demanding and threatening the guards to erase any chance of them getting hired again after being fired here if they don't let him in–"

"No one's getting fired!" Krystal scowls. She gets up from her comfortable couch and stands up, about to go straight to Sarah and demand more answer and maybe call a back up security, when Krystal sees it from the open door the hallway to her office. A man emerges from the corner, three security staffs rushing behind him and even the receptionist is running behind them as much as her heels can let her run.

"We really need you to go, Sir! You are trespassing, you don't have any official schedule and appointment! You must arrange one first–"

"Where's Krystal Hugace?" the man asks –or more like demands. Krystal frowns.

Sarah opens her mouth to speaks but Krystal raises a hand and walks towards the door until she's at the frame, Sarah side stepping to let her be seen by the demanding man.

Krystal's frown deepens. Is this guy Suzy's manager? He doesn't look like anyone that would grace the fashion scene. But managers do manage, right? They don't have to like their client's job, as long as they can help get them jobs and money.

Krystal sighs and knocks on the outside of her door, taking the man's attention.

"I'm Krystal Hugace," she introduces herself. And in much more business tone with a bit –maybe lot– of firmness, Krystal then asks, "Are you Suzy's manager?"

The man looks at him like she suddenly grows three big heads on her neck. Krystal tilts her neck in inquiry.

The man rolls his eyes and then shrugs.

"I'm Christian. I want you to make the perfect, the best suit and wedding dress you can make. Name your price. Be it hundreds or thousand grands. Just make it."

Krystal comes into one conclusion.

This man is unhinged.