Four years had passed since the day of our exile, and the world had become a vastly different place for me. I stood in the grand ballroom of the Château de Lumière, a place where only the wealthiest and most influential were invited to dance and dine under the glow of a thousand crystal chandeliers.
I was clad in a suit that spoke of wealth and meticulous taste. The jacket, tailored to perfection, hugged my shoulders with an authoritative embrace. It was a deep, midnight black, the fabric a fine blend that shimmered subtly under the light.
The lapels were a contrasting satin, adding a touch of elegance that caught the eye without clamoring for attention. My trousers were a matching black, the lines clean and the fit precise, allowing for a comfortable grace as I moved through the crowd. The tie was a stark white, a bold statement against the black of my suit.
