Chapter 20: Brandon

The late afternoon sun streams through the tall glass windows of the studio, casting golden streaks of light onto the polished wooden floor. Magali stretches her arms over her head, feeling the satisfying ache of a long, productive day of training. Her classmates Dessie and Brandon are packing up, Lanna's abscence is felt, but everyone has adjusted to having one less person in their class. As Magali wraps up for the day, Brandon approaches her.

"Magali?" Brandon's voice cuts through the noise as he steps forward, clutching the strap of his bag tightly. His voice is steady, but there's a hint of hesitation in his tone.

Magali looks over, offering him a kind smile. "What's up, Brandon?"

He hesitates for a moment, as if gathering the courage to speak. "Do you mind if we talk? I can walk you back to your crew building."

Magali tilts her head, curious. Brandon had always been quiet, hardworking, and fiercely determined. She could sense this wasn't just a casual conversation he was seeking. "Sure," she replies, grabbing her water bottle and slipping her bag over her shoulder. "Let's go."

The two step out into the bustling streets of Sweet Dance City, the air alive with the energy of idols and fans moving between rehearsals, performances, and everyday life. Brandon walks a half step behind her at first, clearly nervous, until Magali slows her pace to match his.

The streets of Sweet Dance City buzz with energy as Magali and Brandon make their way to the crew building. A soft breeze carries the faint melody of music from a nearby studio, mingling with the sounds of laughter and conversation. For a moment, the two walk in silence, the rhythm of their steps matching unconsciously. Then, Brandon breaks the quiet.

"You know, Magali," he begins, his tone casual but laced with sincerity, "you've been doing really well lately. Leilah and Dessie can see it too."

Magali glances at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Oh, come on, Brandon. I'm just keeping up with everyone else. I'm nothing special."

Brandon shakes his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. "That's not true, and you know it. Your performances have been incredible. It's like you're in your element out there. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if you outshine your dad one day."

At the mention of her father, Magali's blush deepens. She offers a modest shrug. "I think I owe it all to him. If I have any talent, it's because I inherited it from him. He's the real Super Idol, not me."

Brandon stops walking for a moment, turning to look at her with a raised eyebrow. "You're selling yourself short, Magali. Sure, your dad's amazing, but you're not just riding on his coattails. In fact…" He hesitates, choosing his words carefully. "I think you might even have more talent than him."

Magali halts mid-step, spinning around to face him, her expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "What? What do you mean by that? My dad's one of the best idols Sweet Dance City has ever seen."

Brandon shrugs, resuming their walk. "Don't get me wrong—your dad's a legend. But part of what makes him so great is his savant."

Magali blinks, her pace slowing as she processes the unfamiliar term. "Savant? What's that?"

Brandon glances at her, then sighs as if he's about to tackle a complicated subject. "It's… not exactly easy to explain," he admits. "But basically, a savant is this unique ability that only Super Idols have. It's like… a kind of talent that goes beyond normal skill. It's almost supernatural. They say it allows them to pull talent, inspiration, or even energy from distant places—like it's not even their own—and channel it into their performances. Anyone who watches a Super Idol use their savant is said to be hypnotizedby their limitless talent."

Magali furrows her brow, skepticism written all over her face. Yet, she must use her words carefully as she remembers Tellu saying something similar. "That sounds… impossible. Like something out of a fantasy story."

Brandon chuckles, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, it does sound crazy. But it's what the council believes. The Council recognizes it, and all Super Idols have talked about it like it's real. Your dad's savant is why he's been able to dominate the stage for so long."

Magali tilts her head, still grappling with the idea. "If that's true, then how could I possibly compare to him? If he has this 'savant' thing and I don't, wouldn't that mean he's on a completely different level?"

Brandon shakes his head firmly. "That's the thing. Your dad's savant might help him, but your talent isn't coming from some mystical ability. It's all you, Magali. You don't need a savant to be incredible. Everything you've done—every performance, every move—that's your hard work and passion shining through."

Magali falls silent, her thoughts swirling as they walk. The concept of savants still feels foreign, almost unbelievable, but Brandon's words strike a chord in her. She's always worked hard, pushing herself to improve, to honor her family's legacy. Could it be that her achievements were truly her own, not just a reflection of her father's name?

"Thanks, Brandon," she says softly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "That… means a lot."

Brandon grins, his earlier nerves fading away. "Anytime. Just remember—you're more than just Julian's daughter. You're Magali. And that's more than enough."

Magali nods, letting the conversation settle between them as they near the crew building. Though the concept of savants lingers in the back of her mind, she decides to let it go—for now. There's still so much about the world of idols she doesn't fully understand, and maybe some things are better left to the realm of belief.

As they near the crew building, the air between Magali and Brandon settles into a comfortable quiet. Magali, however, can sense there's something on Brandon's mind, something beyond the lighthearted conversation they've just had.

"So," Magali starts, glancing at him. "What's on your mind? I'm sure that you didn't offer to walk me home over savants and my dad."

Brandon hesitates for a moment, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… it's kind of a big ask," he admits, his voice uncertain. "I'm supposed to perform in a future performance, but there's a problem."

Magali raises an eyebrow, curious. "What kind of problem?"

He exhales sharply, as if bracing himself. "I was supposed to perform with my partner… my lover, actually. But we broke up, and now I don't have anyone to perform with."

Magali blinks, caught off guard. "Wait, what? You don't have a partner, like at all?"

Brandon shakes his head, looking slightly embarrassed. "Nope. And with the performance just around the corner, I'm in trouble. That's why I was hoping…" He pauses, glancing at her with a hopeful expression. "…you'd be my partner. Just this once."

Magali tilts her head, her lips pressing into a line as she considers his request. "Me? But I dont have a clue what kind of performance you are doing. Wouldn't you want someone more experienced with your routine?"

"You're more than good enough, Magali," Brandon replies quickly, his tone earnest. "I've seen you perform, and I know you can handle it. Plus, I trust you. I wouldn't ask you if I didn't think you were the perfect choice."

Magali softens a little at his sincerity, but there's still one question lingering in her mind. "What happened to your… lover?" she asks carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You know, I've heard things about you. About how you've had a lot of relationships. Is this breakup… related to that?"

Brandon winces, clearly recognizing the unspoken question behind her words. "You mean the rumors," he says, his tone resigned. "Yeah, I know what people say about me. That I've dated a ton of people, that I'm some kind of heartbreaker."

"Are they true?" Magali presses, her gaze steady.

Brandon sighs deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly as they come to a stop in front of the crew building. "They're… half true," he admits, his voice quieter now. "Yes, I've been in a lot of relationships. But it's not what people think."

Magali crosses her arms, waiting for him to elaborate. She doesn't judge him outright, but she wants the full story.

Brandon glances at her, then looks away, as if the explanation feels too heavy to share. But eventually, he speaks. "As the son of a council member, I've… always been in the spotlight. And unfortunately, that means people see me as a way to gain influence. A lot of the girls I've dated weren't really interested in me. They just wanted the connection to my father. Power in Sweet Dance City's government." He pauses, his jaw tightening. "And, well, when you're young and naïve, it's hard to tell who's genuine and who's not. I've been… used more times than I care to admit."

Magali's expression softens, her arms uncrossing as she listens. "Brandon… that sounds awful," she says gently.

He shrugs, though there's a bitterness in the gesture. "It's just how things are for me. I've gotten better at spotting it now, but it doesn't make it any easier. My most recent relationship… I thought it was different. I really cared about her. But in the end, she wanted the same thing as the others. So, yeah. That's why I'm partnerless for the performance."

Magali stays quiet for a moment, taking it all in. She can see the hurt in Brandon's eyes, the weight of being constantly judged and used. It's a side of him she hadn't expected to see—the boy behind the rumors.

"I'm sorry you've had to deal with all of that," she says softly. "I… I don't know what I'd do in your shoes."

Brandon looks at her, offering a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Magali. I don't usually talk about this stuff with anyone, but… I figured you'd understand. You've always been real, you know? Not fake, like so many people in this city."

Magali smiles faintly, her mind already leaning toward an answer. "Alright," she says after a pause. "I'll be your partner. Just this once."

Brandon's eyes light up, his usual confidence returning in full force. "Really? You will?"

She nods. "Yeah. But only because I trust you. And because I want to help you prove those rumors wrong."

He laughs, the sound lighter than it's been all afternoon. "Thanks, Magali. You won't regret this. I promise."

Once Magali agreed to perform with Brandon, he wasted no time diving into the details. "Okay, so here's the plan," he began, his voice quick and animated. "Tomorrow afternoon, we'll meet up to try on your outfit. It's already being prepped as we speak, and trust me, it'll be perfect for the theme of the performance. Once we've got your fit finalized, we'll start practicing immediately."

Magali blinked, trying to keep up with the flood of information. "Wait," she interjected, tilting her head, "how did you manage to arrange all this so fast? I just agreed to this a minute ago."

Brandon grinned mischievously, brushing off her concern. "Let's just say I know people who can work magic when I need them to. Don't worry about the details; just be ready to shine. You've got the talent—I'll handle the rest." With that, he flashed her a confident wink before dashing off toward his house, leaving her standing there with more questions than answers.

As the echo of his footsteps faded, Magali let out a small sigh, scratching her head. "How does he plan to pull all of this together so quickly?" she muttered under her breath. Sweet Dance City never ceased to amaze her, but even for a place bursting with creativity, this felt unusually fast. She could only assume Brandon's connections had something to do with it. Shaking her head, she decided not to dwell too much on it; Brandon's enthusiasm was enough to reassure her that he had it under control. Still, a flicker of nervous excitement stirred within her—tomorrow was going to be an entirely new challenge.

The next day, after their trainee class ended, Magali found Brandon waiting for her near the academy entrance, his usual confident demeanor on full display. With a charming smile, he motioned for her to follow him. "Come on, the limo's waiting. Time to see your outfit," he said, gesturing toward the sleek, black vehicle idling at the curb.

Magali hesitated for a moment, still adjusting to Brandon's penchant for extravagance, before stepping into the limo with him. The interior was luxurious, with plush leather seats and tinted windows that made the world outside seem like a distant blur. As they began the ride to the shop, Magali watched the city pass by in silence, her thoughts lingering on the performance ahead.

It was then she noticed Brandon pulling a pocket knife from his jacket. The blade gleamed in the dim light of the limo as he flipped it open, casually polishing it with a cloth he produced from his pocket. Magali's brow furrowed. She couldn't hide her curiosity—and concern. "Brandon," she asked cautiously, "how do you even have that? Weapons are prohibited in Sweet Dance City."

Brandon glanced up from his knife, his expression calm and unbothered, as though this were the most natural question in the world. "Ah, this?" He held the knife up, turning it slightly so it caught the light. "Since my dad's on the council, I'm allowed certain… privileges." He smirked, but it wasn't arrogant—it was more of a knowing look, like he was aware of how unusual the situation was. "Technically, it's classified as a self-defense tool, not a weapon. Council families have exceptions to some of the city's rules. It's a safeguard, you know, just in case."

Magali leaned back in her seat, processing what he said. The strict laws of Sweet Dance City regarding weapons weren't exactly news to her, but she hadn't considered that those in power might play by different rules. "That's… interesting," she muttered, unsure how to feel about it. "Do you actually use it?"

Brandon chuckled softly, flicking the blade closed with a practiced motion. "Only when I need to. Which, honestly, is never. But it's nice to know I have it if the need arises. Think of it as a safety net." He tucked the knife back into his jacket and leaned back in his seat, giving her a reassuring look. "Don't worry. It's not like I'm running around looking for trouble."

The conversation left Magali feeling slightly uneasy but also intrigued. Brandon's world was clearly different from hers—one where privilege and authority blurred the lines of what was acceptable.

As the limo hummed along the smooth roads toward the shop, Magali turned her gaze toward Brandon. "Can I ask you something?" she said, breaking the silence. "How did you even manage to get an outfit made for me so quickly? I've never been measured for anything."

Brandon smirked, a glimmer of pride flickering in his eyes as he pulled a sleek laptop from his bag. He opened it with a flourish, the screen glowing to life. "I thought you might ask that," he said. "I had your measurements taken using a program specifically designed for idols like us. Watch this."

He tapped a few keys, navigating through a custom-made software interface. Magali leaned closer as the program opened a screen showing a familiar playlist—her own Dancetube videos. The software began analyzing the footage in real-time, scanning her movements, outfits, and posture. Complex algorithms measured her height, arm length, torso proportions, and even the way her clothing fit her body. Within seconds, a 3D model of Magali appeared on the screen, fully rendered and eerily accurate.

Magali's eyes widened as she watched the software work its magic. "That's… incredible. But kind of creepy," she said, her tone a mix of awe and concern. "Doesn't this raise privacy issues? I mean, anyone could just scan someone like this without their consent."

Brandon passed her the laptop, letting her explore the program. "It's not as invasive as it seems," he reassured her. "This program only works with publicly available data, like your Dancetube videos. All the footage it analyzes is already out there for anyone to see. And, believe it or not, your dad, Julian, was the one who developed this software."

Magali froze, staring at Brandon in disbelief. "My dad made this?"

"Yep," Brandon replied casually, leaning back in his seat. "The council commissioned him to design it. It was originally meant to help idols optimize their costumes and performances without the need for multiple fittings. Makes sense, right? This program saves time, money, and effort."

Magali's mind whirled. The practicality of the software was undeniable, but the idea of her every move being so easily dissected felt… unsettling. She handed the laptop back to Brandon, sighing softly. "I guess it's useful. But still, knowing that something like this exists makes me wonder how much of our lives are truly private."

Brandon gave her a sympathetic smile, closing the laptop and setting it aside. "I get it. It's a lot to think about. But in this city, the lines between public and private life blur the moment you put yourself out there. You'd be surprised how much of this stuff happens behind the scenes. It's just part of being an idol."

Magali nodded slowly, her thoughts heavy as the limo pulled to a stop in front of the shop. The door opened, and Brandon stepped out first, offering her a hand with a cheeky grin. "Come on, partner. Let's see how your perfectly measured outfit turned out."

With a reluctant smile, Magali took his hand, deciding to focus on the task at hand. For better or worse, this was her life now—one full of surprises, challenges, and a growing awareness of the world behind the spotlight.

As Magali and Brandon stepped into the boutique, the difference between this store and the ones Magali was accustomed to became instantly apparent. The air inside was cool and lightly perfumed, carrying a subtle mix of lavender and citrus. The polished marble floors gleamed under soft golden lighting, giving the space an atmosphere of quiet opulence. Magali paused at the entrance, her eyes drifting over the shop's interior.

Unlike the stores she frequented, there were no racks filled with premade clothes for her to sift through. Instead, the walls were adorned with sleek, minimalist displays, each showcasing a single, elaborate outfit under pristine glass cases. Dresses with intricate beadwork, suits with bold, sharp lines, and gowns adorned with feathers and sequins stood on silent mannequins as if they were museum pieces. A discreet plaque beneath each display detailed the designer and their inspirations, but a small sign near the cases clarified: "For display purposes only. All garments are custom-made to order."

Magali swallowed hard, feeling a wave of unease wash over her. This place exuded luxury, far beyond her usual comfort zone. It was clear that this wasn't a typical retail shop—it was a sanctuary for the elite, where the thought of picking something off a rack would have been laughable.

Brandon, meanwhile, strode in with casual confidence, completely at ease in this environment. "Come on," he said, motioning for Magali to follow. "The designer's waiting for us."

Magali hesitated for a moment, glancing at one of the outfits on display. The dress—a shimmering silver gown embroidered with pearls—looked so extravagant that she couldn't even fathom the cost. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what her outfit might cost. Was this really necessary for one performance?

"Brandon," she began, lowering her voice as they walked deeper into the boutique. "Are you sure this place isn't… you know… too much? I mean, we're just doing one show. Isn't there something a little more… practical?"

Brandon chuckled, not breaking his stride. "Magali, this isn't about practicality. This is about creating something unforgettable. Trust me, if you're going to be my partner on stage, we're going to do it right."

She didn't reply, her unease lingering as she glanced around the store again. Even the seating areas—plush, velvet chairs paired with glass coffee tables—seemed impossibly fancy. A soft classical tune played in the background, and a tall woman in a sharp black suit approached them with a clipboard in hand.

"Mr. Brandon," the woman greeted with a professional smile, her eyes flicking briefly to Magali before returning to him. "The designer is ready to meet with you. If you'll both follow me, please."

Magali gave Brandon a hesitant look as they followed the woman deeper into the store. Her nerves were on edge, but she reminded herself that this was Brandon's world, not hers. For better or worse, she had agreed to be his partner, and if that meant stepping outside her comfort zone, so be it. Still, she couldn't shake the gnawing thought: What kind of outfit is waiting for her there—and how much will it truly cost?

Brandon and Magali were led through a side hallway into a private office, its walls adorned with mood boards showcasing fabric swatches, bold sketches, and photos of some of the most iconic outfits worn by idols in Sweet Dance City. Standing in the center of the room was a striking figure, radiating a commanding presence.

She was everything Magali had never expected in a designer. She was an older woman, perhaps in her late thirties or early forties, but there was an ageless elegance about her that made it impossible to pinpoint. Her narrow, piercing green eyes, framed by sharp cheekbones and flawless skin, gave the impression that she was constantly scrutinizing everything in her line of sight. It wasn't anger exactly, but the intensity of her gaze was enough to make Magali straighten her posture instinctively.

Her hair was perhaps her most defining feature—a long cascade of deep crimson, flowing over her shoulders like living flames. Despite its fiery brilliance, it was perfectly groomed, each strand seeming to fall into place with meticulous precision. She wore a fitted black jumpsuit with gold accents, emphasizing her tall, statuesque frame. Standing well over six feet tall—Kalari loomed over both Magali and Brandon, her presence simultaneously magnetic and intimidating.

Brandon stepped forward with ease, clearly familiar with the designer. "Magali," he said with a smile, gesturing toward the towering woman, "this is Kalari Samson, the head designer here and one of the best in Sweet Dance City. She's created outfits for nearly every major Idol. And now, she's making yours."

Kalari's lips curled into a faint smirk as she glanced down at Magali. "So," she said, her voice low and rich, carrying an accent Magali couldn't quite place. "This is your new partner, Brandon? You move rather quickly." Her tone was neither warm nor hostile—simply clinical, like a scientist appraising a new specimen.

As Kalari stepped forward to greet her, Magali's confidence wavered. The sheer height difference was overwhelming. At five and a half feet tall, Magali often relied on high heels during performances to project a more commanding presence on stage. But now, standing flat-footed in her casual shoes, she felt small—almost childlike—beneath Kalari's shadow.

"I… I'm Magali," she said, extending a hand hesitantly.

Kalari took it with a surprisingly gentle grip, her long fingers cool and firm. "I know you," Kalari replied, tilting her head slightly as her piercing green eyes studied her. "You're Julian's daughter. I've seen your performances. A natural talent, though you've yet to fully embrace your stage presence." She released Magali's hand, her smirk returning faintly.

Brandon leaned casually against the edge of Kalari's worktable, his arms crossed as he watched the designer sort through her materials with laser focus. "So, Kalari," he asked, his tone light, "is Magali's outfit ready?"

Kalari paused, lifting her gaze to meet Brandon's with an almost bored expression. "Of course it's ready, I had my best tailors work on it all night long," she replied, turning toward a nearby shelf stacked with neatly wrapped packages. Her movements were deliberate as she grabbed a package larger than most Magali had ever seen, wrapped in a glossy black covering tied with a crimson ribbon. She handed it to Magali with both hands. "Try it on," Kalari instructed.

Magali's eyes widened as she took the package, feeling its unexpected heft. The sheer size and weight of the box made her glance up at Kalari with confusion. "Why is it so big?" she asked. "Isn't this just a performance outfit?"

Kalari smirked, brushing a lock of crimson hair over her shoulder. "Because," she began, her voice smooth and authoritative, "Brandon's performances are not your average trainee showcase. His shows are intricate, full of movement, and visually demanding. That requires an outfit capable of keeping up with the theatrics—layers, embellishments, and functional design for transitions. This isn't a simple costume; it's a stage piece, tailored specifically for you."

Magali tilted her head, holding the package closer as a flicker of anxiety danced across her features. The pressure of performing alongside Brandon was already significant, but now, knowing the costume itself was designed with such intensity made her heart race.

"Well," Magali said, trying to lighten the mood, "I'm afraid to even ask what something like this costs…"

Kalari blinked at her, tilting her head ever so slightly as though the question was incomprehensible. "The council has already paid for your outfit," she answered plainly.

Magali froze, momentarily speechless. "The council… paid for it?" she repeated.

"Yes," Kalari replied matter-of-factly. "Brandon requested the best for you, and his connections made the funding a non-issue. Consider it an investment in your future as a performer."

Magali's gaze shifted toward Brandon, who gave her an easy smile and shrugged. "What can I say?" he said with a hint of mischief. "I don't do things halfway."

Magali wasn't sure whether to feel grateful, embarrassed, or overwhelmed. "I don't know what to say…"

Kalari gave a small wave of her hand, dismissing Magali's hesitation. "Say nothing. Just put it on and let the outfit speak for itself. If it doesn't work, we'll make adjustments. But trust me," she added with a confident smirk, "I don't make mistakes."

Magali glanced down at the heavy package in her hands, feeling the weight of more than just the fabric inside. It wasn't just a costume; it was a statement, a declaration that she was stepping into something much bigger than herself. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Alright, I'll try it on."

Kalari gestured toward the fitting room and opened the curtains for her. "Go ahead. Let's see how well you wear it."

With one last glance at Brandon, who gave her an encouraging nod, Magali stepped toward the fitting room, her heart pounding as she prepared to take the next step into this new, daunting chapter of her journey.

Magali stepped into the fitting room, her fingers hesitating as she untied the crimson ribbon on the glossy black package. Inside, layers of pristine fabric shimmered under the light, soft yet radiating a quiet opulence. She carefully unpacked the garment, her brow furrowing as she tried to figure out exactly how to wear it. After a few moments of adjusting and fastening, she stood in front of the mirror, her eyes widening in shock.

"Brandon!" she called sharply, her voice ringing with disbelief.

Outside, Brandon, who had been lazily scrolling through his phone while leaning against the wall, instantly perked up. "What's wrong?" he asked, stepping closer to the fitting room.

Magali's head popped out of the curtains, her expression a mixture of irritation and embarrassment. "What is this?" she demanded, her cheeks tinged with pink.

Brandon raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in confusion. "What's wrong with it?"

With an exasperated huff, Magali yanked the curtains open, fully revealing herself in the outfit. Brandon's eyes lit up in approval as he took in the design.

The dress was as intricate as Kalari had promised. Starting at the top, a sheer, transparent fabric covered her neck shoulders and chest with white cloth covering her bust, adorned with delicate silver and blue ornaments that sparkled like tiny stars. The base of the dress was white but shifted into a soft sky blue as it flowed downward. The skirt was plush and elegant, cascading around her hips and down the back, but the front was completely open, leaving her legs and thighs exposed. The outfit's boldness didn't stop there—the spce around her bellybutton was bare, with only the ornaments around creating a sense of modesty. Her high heels perfectly matched the outfit, their straps laced with glittering silver threads that caught the light.

Magali gestured to the outfit, clearly flustered. "This isn't a dress," she said, her voice rising. "It's a one-piece bathing suit with a skirt attached! Don't you think this is a bit… revealing?"

Brandon's initial reaction was to laugh, but he quickly stopped himself when he saw her glare. Instead, he clapped his hands, his expression genuinely impressed. "Of course not," he said confidently. "Considering how other idols dress on stage, this is pretty modest by comparison."

Magali groaned, placing a hand on her forehead. "You do have a point," she muttered reluctantly. As much as she wanted to argue, she couldn't deny the truth in his words. She had seen countless idols perform in outfits far more risqué than this. She has seen other idols wear next to nothing; such as bathing suits, skin tight rompers, sleepwear, and costumes that left little to the imagination. Compared to those, her outfit could almost be considered demure. Still, the idea of stepping on stage dressed like this filled her with a strange mix of nerves and defiance.

Her mind briefly drifted to her father. She could practically imagine Julian's reaction if he saw her on stage in this costume. Would he be proud? Embarrassed? Shocked? She wasn't sure, and the uncertainty made her stomach twist.

Brandon noticed her hesitation and softened his tone. "Look, Magali, I get it. It's a little out of your comfort zone. But trust me, this outfit was designed to fit the theme of the performance perfectly. You'll look incredible out there, and when the audience sees you, they won't be thinking about whether it's too revealing. They'll just see you as the star of the show."

Magali sighed, still feeling unsure but unable to deny his encouragement. "Alright," she said reluctantly, smoothing her hands over the plush skirt. "I'll wear it. But if this doesn't work, I'm blaming you."

Brandon grinned. "Deal. But trust me, you're going to steal the spotlight."

As Magali turned back toward the mirror, she couldn't help but take one more critical glance at herself. Despite her initial reservations, there was something undeniably striking about the outfit. Maybe, just maybe, Brandon was right.

Magali carefully slipped out of the dress, folding each piece delicately before placing it back in its box. The fabric shimmered under the fitting room lights as she smoothed it out, ensuring it looked as pristine as when Kalari had handed it to her. Closing the lid, she took a moment to breathe before stepping out, the weight of the day's events still lingering. Brandon was already waiting near the door, his usual confident demeanor as steady as ever.

The ride back to the crew building was mostly quiet, save for the hum of the limo's engine and the soft clinking of Brandon's pocket knife as he absently flicked it open and closed. Midway through the trip, Brandon broke the silence. "Don't forget," he said, glancing at her. "We're meeting at my place tomorrow afternoon for practice. I'll send you the details."

Magali nodded, clutching the box in her lap. "Got it," she said softly, her mind already wandering to how this performance would unfold.

When they arrived at the crew building, Brandon waved her off with his usual air of charm. Magali muttered a tired goodbye, carrying the box inside. The familiar sight of the crew hall instantly put her at ease, but her relief was short-lived when she spotted Conrad leaning casually against one of the couches, a knowing grin on his face.

"Hey, Mags!" Conrad called out, his eyes immediately darting to the large box in her hands. "What's that? Did you finally buy something expensive for yourself?"

Magali rolled her eyes, her pace quickening as she tried to avoid his teasing. "It's my costume for an upcoming performance," she replied curtly.

Conrad's grin widened as he stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Oh really? Let me see it! C'mon, try it on for me," he said with a playful tone, wagging his eyebrows.

Magali's face flushed a deep red, and she hugged the box tighter against her chest. "No way!" she yelled, her voice echoing through the room.

Conrad blinked, startled by her uncharacteristically loud reaction. "Whoa, whoa, relax!" he said, raising his hands in surrender. "What's gotten into you?"

Magali sighed, her shoulders slumping. "It's just been… a long day," she muttered. "I need to rest."

Before Conrad could respond, she darted past him, her footsteps echoing as she hurried to her room.

Once inside, Magali locked the door behind her and set the box on her bed. She hesitated for a moment before opening it again, the shimmering fabric catching her eye. Something about the outfit pulled her in, despite her earlier reservations. Slowly, she slipped it back on, the sheer top clinging delicately to her skin while the plush skirt fell perfectly around her hips.

Turning to the mirror, Magali studied her reflection. She had to admit, Kalari's work was breathtaking. Even the daring cuts and bold design somehow felt elegant rather than crass. The transparent fabric along her chest sparkled softly under her room's light, and the way the bodice pushed her chest upward created an illusion of curves she didn't usually have.

Her cheeks reddened as she adjusted the skirt, wondering how on earth she would face an audience in something so revealing. "This is going to make me look so weird," she mumbled to herself.

But despite her embarrassment, she couldn't deny that the outfit was beautiful. For the first time that day, she allowed herself a small smile. Maybe this performance would be worth the discomfort. Maybe.