Lovato stood up, her eyes scanning me from head to toe.

“Of course I had to be punctual for my fashion fitting,” she murmured, a hint of admiration in her voice. “Your dress is stunning, Leslie. Who designed it?”

“Yes, my mother designed it herself,” I gave a small nod, a hint of pride in my voice.

Lovato, impressed, studied the dress closely, her eyes drinking in every detail. “Wait, you don't mean... your mother isn't a professional designer?”

I offered a nonchalant shrug, my tone casual.

“No, not at all. She's a professional swordmaster, really.” As I spoke, I watched as Lovato's gaze flicked back and forth between the...