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The models paraded down the runway in strikingly unique outfits, each one fully committed and brimming with excitement. They knew—without a shadow of doubt—that they were about to become the breakout stars of this fashion week.

If luck was on their side, these garments would catapult them into the glossy pages of countless high-profile magazines. Their faces—and more importantly, their clothes—would be immortalized for months to come.

Throughout history, humans have hunted animals for their beautiful pelts and adorned themselves with nature's spoils. It's always been part of our story—a tradition as old as time itself.

But tonight? Tonight felt different. The fabrics mimicking animal prints were paired with intricate accessories and feathers that amplified the wild essence of every look. Each model exuded an untamed energy, something primal and fierce, from head to toe.

This wasn't just "wild" as a trend; it was raw, unbridled ferocity personified.

The effect was magnetic. Cameras flashed like strobe lights in a storm, bathing the stage in dazzling white. Gasps rippled through the crowd as people reacted to designs bolder than bold, edgier than avant-garde, wilder than wilderness itself.

Adrenaline surged through the room, elevating the atmosphere to fever pitch. A new style had been born—one that defied convention and redefined boundaries.

As one model dressed as a spotted leopard strutted past, her body painted with vibrant patterns, all eyes followed her every move. Her feathered accents and fluffy tail swayed rhythmically with her steps, commanding attention from the moment she stepped onto the runway.

Severella couldn't tear her gaze away either.

"Lynch," she murmured, leaning closer, "are those tails sewn onto the outfits?" She gestured toward the animal-inspired ensembles now gracing the stage. "They don't bounce around when the models walk. There's a deliberate rhythm to how they flow—it's almost like they're naturally attached."

It reminded her of an old design dilemma: the pouf skirt. Back then, designers realized that if they wanted the skirts to live up to expectations, they needed internal structures to hold their shape. But there was a catch—those structured skirts had a tendency to twist awkwardly as the wearer moved, slowly sliding down until the entire garment became misshapen.

To fix the problem, designers added even more structure, but at the cost of comfort. Yet here, watching the rhythmic sway of the tail, Severella saw none of those issues. As someone who ran her own label (albeit a modest one), she understood the complexities involved. If that tail were simply sewn onto the skirt, its movement wouldn't appear so graceful, nor would it maintain the outfit's integrity.

She leaned forward, curiosity piqued. Perhaps this innovation could inspire her own collections. Already, she envisioned incorporating elements of this groundbreaking design into her brand. This could very well set the tone for the next season—or even the year ahead.

"You really don't want to know…" Lynch replied cryptically, smirking as though indulging a child. "It's nothing special."

Of course, his dismissive tone only fueled her determination to find out. After insisting twice that she deserved an explanation, Lynch finally leaned in and whispered the secret behind the tail's seamless motion.

Whether it was the warmth of his breath brushing against her ear or the surprisingly risqué details he shared, Severella's cheeks flushed crimson. She shot him a glare and muttered under her breath, "Pervert."

Lynch turned to another guest seated beside him—a well-dressed woman—and asked innocently, "Am I really that vulgar?"

The woman studied him carefully, her gaze lingering briefly on his handsome features before breaking into a smile. "Not at all, Mr. Lynch."

"Thank you." He nodded graciously, then turned back to Severella with a triumphant grin. "See? You're wrong."

Their playful banter did little to detract from the spectacle unfolding before them. In fact, the show was an unequivocal success. And whispers hinted at even more jaw-dropping designs set to debut at the upcoming autumn-winter showcase.

For now, though, what they'd witnessed was more than enough.

---

By the following morning, nearly every newspaper, magazine, and talk show related to fashion was buzzing about the groundbreaking event. People today are easily awestruck, which is perhaps why they feel perpetually alive—constantly surrounded by novelty and wonder.

The unconventional style ignited the fashion world. During an interview the next day, the lead designer credited Lynch as the source of inspiration for the collection.

"I must thank Mr. Lynch for his invaluable assistance," the designer began. "At first, I admit, I was skeptical. He hadn't demonstrated any particular talent in this field before, nor had he achieved notable success."

"I owe him an apology. I initially dismissed him as arrogant due to his youth—but I was mistaken."

"Some individuals possess innate gifts others can only dream of. Mr. Lynch is one such person—wise, charismatic, and utterly captivating. Conversing with him made me feel like a student humbled by a master."

The interviewer gently nudged the designer to focus on the topic at hand, prompting him to continue.

"When we were struggling to conceptualize the theme for Fashion Week, Mr. Lynch approached me with a question: ‘Hey, what do you think of my adventures?'"

"I told him, ‘They're amazing—fresh, thrilling.' That was my honest opinion."

"He then asked, ‘So why not combine fashion with adventure and nature?'"

"And thus, everything you see today came to life…"

"Beasts, wilderness, untouched beauty—the kind crafted by the hands of gods. True beauty lies in imperfection, in purity. We may never replicate it, but we can learn from it, emulate it…"

Granting Lynch partial ownership of the brand and seeking his creative input had proven worthwhile. Already, lesser-known labels were scrambling to follow suit.

Developing Nagalier wouldn't be easy—it required collective effort, societal enthusiasm. The more people willing to travel to Nagalier, the greater the influence federal citizens would wield within its society. Over time, cultural integration would take root.

Nagalier natives would start speaking Common Tongue with a federal accent, using Thor as currency, befriending federal visitors, and embracing federal culture. Within a decade, younger generations might forget where one identity ends and another begins. They'd speak the language, cherish federal friendships, read federal literature, listen to federal music, and watch federal films.

Save for their bloodline, they'd essentially become indistinguishable from federal citizens.

By then, origins wouldn't matter. What mattered was unity.

But achieving this vision required action. Inspiring federal citizens was key. And what better vehicle than fashion? Young people crave trends—they chase them, study them, immerse themselves in them far more passionately than they approach academics.

Influence. That was the crux of it.

Lynch was cultivating influence, spreading it, shaping minds.

After the final day of Fashion Week, Lynch parted ways with Severella, boarding separate trains back to Bupayne. The separation wasn't his choice—it stemmed from Waldric's insistence that staying together posed certain… risks.

Though many viewed such risks as overblown, some women even scoffed at the idea once they grew older, Waldric remained adamant. Reluctantly, Severella boarded a late-night train, leaving in haste.

When Lynch arrived home after a long journey the following day, the third round of negotiations with the Nagalier delegation had just concluded.

"They accepted two of your conditions but rejected the third."

Back in Bupayne, Lynch dove straight back into work. Of the three demands he'd presented to Delage, the first two—non-core issues—had been approved. But the third, making Thor the official circulating currency of the Nagalier United Kingdom, had been firmly denied.

"They didn't provide much reasoning," Truman explained as Lynch pored over meeting notes. "But they dug their heels in on this point."

Listening intently, Lynch pieced together the delegation's stance. When he finished reviewing the records, he closed the folder and looked at Truman.

"We compromise. Let them meet us halfway. We'll drop the demand for Thor to be the sole legal tender—but insist that its use as a legitimate currency be officially recognized."

It sounded like a tongue-twister, but the stakes were anything but trivial. In negotiations of this caliber, every word carried immense weight.

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