August stepped out of the sleek black car, sent personally by Mason Glory, the client, onto the crimson carpet that stretched out like a river of blood beneath his feet.
The entrance to the grand hall was flanked by towering marble columns, and the glittering lights reflected off the polished surface, creating an atmosphere that screamed opulence.
A bodyguard, hired by Celine, shadowed his every move until the entrance, where the man stopped, his duty complete.
As August began his walk, the murmurs started. Men and women alike turned their heads, eyes widening with admiration and envy.
"Who is that gorgeous man?" someone whispered.
"He looks like a god," another voice added, filled with awe.
"He must be rolling in wealth."
"He's just perfect."
"Him being here means he's one of the veiled heirs of a rich conglomerate."
"I can swear he's an Adonis. Is he married?"
But August, with his chin held high and a cold, detached expression, did not acknowledge a single compliment.
His thoughts were a stark contrast to the glittering praise that surrounded him. "If only they knew…" he mused bitterly. "I'm so broke that I couldn't turn down an offer of a million just to be here, even though the last thing I wanted was to attend this damned event that will only lead to a bleeding heart."
He continued forward, each step deliberate and unwavering, as if he belonged in this world of luxury. He knew so well how to join in.
But inside, a knot of frustration twisted in his chest. 'These ingrates, sons of the devil's government, think I'm one of them. If only they knew I am one of the very species they rejected and threw unto the face of forceful deaths. They see a façade called man, not the hermaphrodite beneath.'
Inside the hall, chandeliers hung like crystalline waterfalls from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over the crowd of well-dressed guests.
August's eyes scanned the room, taking in the lavish décor, the gold accents, and the sea of expensive suits and glittering gowns.
At the front of the room, a man stood at a podium, reading names from a list, each name causing a flurry of activity as assistants guided the selected guests to their designated seats.
August barely had time to adjust to the grandeur before his name was called. He wasn't just any guest—he was ushered to a seat near the front, in the very heart of the event.
As he settled into his seat, the chatter around him became more distinct. Conversations about the bride floated in the air like a cloud of gossip.
"She's so sassy, isn't she? Turned down so many proposals before she found her perfect match."
"Do you know how many rich men she rejected? She's determined to shine brighter than anyone in the Glory family."
"Well, she's certainly glowing now. Landing Mason Glory is no small feat."
"Did you hear? She was so proud to announce that August Farley would be attending."
"And he's here, in the flesh. What a nasty bride. Sadly, I can't find him."
"Don't tell me you're here for him too? Haha, I tripled my makeup layers just for him."
"Eeeeeh! I hope he's single though."
"Heard he's outside. Someone said she saw an Adonis and I have the feeling it's him. I trust my seventh sense."
August listened to the gossip with half an ear, his mind preoccupied with his own thoughts. 'They know my name, but not my face,' he thought, taking a leisurely sip of the wine that had been placed before him.
Even as they had called his name, a lot of people, if not all the guests, were so inattentive and that's why they didn't notice anything. Probably because the main event hadn't started so, they didn't feel the need to pay attention to anything but gossip and themselves.
The liquid (wine) was rich and smooth, but as his gaze drifted to the right, he felt a sudden tightness in his chest.
There, on the far wall, was a large banner featuring the engaging partners who would soon be a bride and groom duo.
His eyes locked onto the image of Mason, the groom, and an inexplicable pain surged through his heart. He coughed violently, the wine in his mouth spraying into his hand.
The pain was sharp, almost physical, as if the sight of Mason's face had struck him in the gut. That pain was betrayal! Somehow, August felt betrayed. He used to have a crush on Mason and he still did.
Mason was one of the reasons he's still in country X and even after he saw the invitation card being his alias name from young, he still came. Not mainly because of the money.
He wanted to look Mason in the eyes and make him pick between him and the lady he was going to get engaged to. What a dream! August couldn't even stand the sight of the Mason's picture, more so in flesh.
Before he could regain his composure, a hand appeared in his line of vision, holding a handkerchief. "Here, take this," a voice said, calm and steady. "Cough into it."
August grabbed the handkerchief, his eyes still watering from the sudden choking fit. "Thank you," he muttered, coughing the wine into the cloth.
He looked up, ready to offer a more sincere thanks, but the sight of the man before him caused his blood to run cold. An intense, almost irrational anger bubbled up inside him, and he fought the urge to turn and flee.
"Hey," the man said, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of amusement. "Stop avoiding my eyes. You know me, right? Don't be too overwhelmed about my presence."
August forced himself to meet the man's gaze, his emotions tightly controlled yet not seeming so. "Who wouldn't know you, Mr. Glory? Mr. Sean Glory," he replied, each word carefully measured, as if afraid that any hint of emotion would betray him.
Sean Glory, Mason's very own identical twin brother and a figure of both charm and menace in equal measure, smiled—a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, everyone knows me."
It sounded like he felt bad being called who he was. He turned away, taking a step back, acting like he was satisfied with the interaction.
August let out a sigh of relief as Sean's back was turned, the tension in his body easing just a fraction. But just as quickly, the relief evaporated when Sean glanced back over his shoulder, a spark of curiosity in his eyes.
"Without even taking a good look at me, you could tell I'm Sean and not Mason," Sean's voice was casual, but there was a sharpness to it that made August's skin prickle. "Hmmm… I've seen those eyes of yours somewhere, haven't I?"