The door to Reverie Atelier opened with a soft chime, and Yumiko’s breath hitched as she stepped inside. The shop was a work of art in itself—sleek, elegant, and utterly dazzling. Soft, ambient lighting illuminated rows of high-end clothing, each piece displayed as though it were a treasure. Dresses shimmered like liquid gold, suits looked sharp enough to cut glass, and accessories sparkled with tiny crystals that caught the light like miniature stars. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, adding a sense of calm sophistication to the atmosphere.
Yumiko paused at the entrance, her wide eyes darting from one display to the next. Her fingers twitched with the urge to touch the luxurious fabrics, to feel the craftsmanship and detail that went into every piece. This is the dream, she thought, practically vibrating with excitement.
Her eyes landed on a deep crimson dress that seemed to flow like molten silk on its mannequin. Without thinking, she reached out, her fingertips brushing against the fabric.
“Ah, ah, ah!” A voice interrupted, melodic and laced with playful disapproval.
Yumiko jumped, snatching her hand back as a figure approached.
The person who had spoken was a flamboyant-looking man with silver-blond hair swept back into a neat bun, save for a few loose strands framing his face. His tailored suit was a mix of plum and emerald tones, bold yet impeccably styled. A thin silver chain hung loosely from his collar, glinting in the shop's soft light. His sharp, green eyes twinkled with amusement as he waved a perfectly manicured finger in her direction.
“Darling, please,” he said, his voice rich with theatrical flair. “No casual touching. The clothes here are art, not… souvenirs.” He gave her an exaggerated look of mock horror.
Yumiko flushed, her cheeks heating as she bowed her head slightly. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—uh—I just got excited. Everything here is so beautiful.”
The man’s expression softened, his lips curling into a sly smile. “Well, at least you have taste. That’s something.” He placed a hand on his hip, studying her closely. “And who might you be, my dear? A first-time visitor? Or are you here for something… more purposeful?”
Yumiko straightened, her initial embarrassment replaced with eager confidence. “I’m Yumiko! I saw your flyer about the part-time position. I’m here for that.”
The man’s eyebrows shot up, his curiosity deepening as he took a step back and gestured dramatically toward her outfit. “And you arrived in that, of all things? Oh, my stars, the audacity!”
Yumiko blinked, her face falling slightly. “Wait… is there something wrong with it?”
The man suddenly burst into laughter, the sound light and musical. “Wrong? Oh, darling, no! Quite the opposite!” He gestured toward her outfit—a sharp, form-fitting jacket paired with sleek pants, all tailored perfectly to her frame. The stitching was immaculate, the fabric both durable and stylish. A bright sash tied at her waist added a splash of vibrant color.
“That jacket,” the man said, leaning closer to examine her sleeve, “is absolutely divine. Minimalist yet bold. Practical yet chic. Tell me, Yumiko, where did you get it?”
Yumiko’s face lit up with pride, her earlier anxiety forgotten. “I made it myself! I made all my clothes, actually. And not just mine—my teammates’ too! I’ve been designing and sewing since I was little.”
The man’s eyes widened in genuine admiration, and he placed a hand over his chest as if he were truly touched. “Well, consider me impressed! Merrick Alistair does not hand out compliments lightly, but my dear, you deserve one. Your craftsmanship is impeccable.”
Yumiko beamed, practically glowing under the praise. “Thank you so much! That means a lot.”
“Well then, Yumiko,” Merrick said, motioning for her to follow him, “let’s see if you’re truly as capable as you appear to be. Come along, darling. Let’s get you sorted out.”
Merrick led Yumiko through the store, past rows of immaculate displays and into the back area, where the air lost some of its polish and took on a more utilitarian vibe. The back room was spacious, with shelves stacked high with folded clothing, accessory bins, and bolts of fabric. Neatly labeled boxes lined the walls, and a large central table was cluttered with tags, sewing supplies, and various organizational tools.
“This,” Merrick announced with a flourish, gesturing around the room, “will be your domain. You’ll be in charge of organizing the inventory, ensuring everything is tagged properly, and, occasionally, repairing minor damages to the pieces. Can you handle that?”
Yumiko blinked, her excitement dimming. “Wait… organize? You mean I’ll be working back here?”
“Indeed,” Merrick replied breezily, examining his nails as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. “Every kingdom needs its stewards, dear. Without someone managing the inventory, this entire store would collapse into chaos!”
Yumiko frowned, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I thought… I thought I’d be out on the floor. You know, helping customers pick out outfits, working with them directly. Like the flyer said.”
Merrick arched an eyebrow, his emerald eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. “Ah, I see. You wanted to be in the spotlight, hmm? Rubbing elbows with the clientele, offering your expertise? How charming.” He gave a sympathetic smile. “Unfortunately, that role has already been filled.”
Yumiko tilted her head in confusion. “Filled? By who?”
Merrick turned toward the doorway leading back to the front of the store and raised his voice. “Darling, come here for a moment, won’t you? Our new recruit seems to have some… concerns.”
A moment later, the door swung open, and another figure strolled in.
Yumiko’s eyes widened, her initial disappointment replaced with pure shock—and then delight. “Rayven?!”
Standing before her, dressed in an effortlessly cool black ensemble with silver accents, was none other than Rayven. Her usual smirk was firmly in place, and her dark eyes gleamed with equal parts amusement and mischief.
“Yumiko?” Rayven said, her eyebrows shooting up as recognition dawned on her. “No way! What are you doing here?”
Yumiko grinned, the excitement bubbling over. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here?!”
Merrick looked between the two girls, his expression bemused. “Ah, so you know each other. How delightful. I suppose introductions aren’t necessary, then.” He placed a hand on his hip, leaning slightly to one side as he observed their reunion. “Now, Yumiko, do you still have concerns about the position?”
Yumiko’s gaze flicked between Merrick and Rayven, her disappointment at the organizational role momentarily forgotten in the excitement of seeing her friend. “I mean… maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”
Rayven chuckled, crossing her arms. “You’re stuck in the back, huh? Don’t worry—I’ll make sure to give you something to do when I’m out on the floor. Keep you from getting bored.”
Merrick clapped his hands together, drawing their attention back to him. “Marvelous! Now that we’re all acquainted, let’s get to work, shall we? The Atelier waits for no one, darlings.”
Rayven leaned casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed as she glanced back at Yumiko. “Hey,” she said, her voice light but playful, “tell you what—I don’t mind switching with you every day. One day you’re out on the floor, the next I am. Fair’s fair, right?”
Yumiko’s face lit up with pure delight. “Really? You’d do that?”
Rayven shrugged with a smirk. “Sure. It’s not like I care who talks to the customers. Besides, you’ve got that bubbly ‘people-person’ vibe. Me? I just look good standing around.”
Yumiko beamed, clasping her hands together in excitement. “You’re the best, Rayven!”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sentimental on me,” Rayven teased, pushing off the doorframe. “Alright, I’m heading back to the floor. Try not to mess up back here, alright?” She shot Yumiko a quick wink before disappearing through the door.
With renewed energy, Yumiko turned her attention to the inventory. Though it wasn’t exactly what she’d envisioned, the idea of alternating days on the floor with Rayven made the job much more exciting. She hummed softly as she started organizing a rack of accessories, meticulously checking tags and arranging them by color and type.
Merrick, meanwhile, had perched himself at a sleek desk tucked into the corner of the room, going through some paperwork while occasionally glancing at Yumiko with a faint smile of approval. The hum of activity from the shop floor filtered in faintly, blending with the rustle of fabric and the click of hangers in the back room.
The peace was suddenly interrupted by the shrill ring of Merrick’s phone. He glanced at the screen, his expression neutral at first, but as he answered, his face turned ghostly pale.
“Yes… yes, this is Merrick Alistair,” he said, his voice unnervingly stiff. A pause. Then, his eyes widened. “He’s what? Today?! No, no, of course, I’ll handle it. Thank you for letting me know.”
Yumiko, noticing his change in demeanor, slowed her movements and glanced over with concern. Merrick ended the call with shaky hands and rose from his seat, his usual flamboyance completely gone. He strode toward the main shop floor with brisk, almost frantic steps.
“Excuse me, everyone!” Merrick called out, clapping his hands for attention. His voice was unusually sharp, cutting through the ambient chatter of the customers. “I’m terribly sorry, but I must ask you all to leave. Effective immediately, the store is closing for the remainder of the day.”
Gasps and murmurs of outrage rippled through the store. Several customers began voicing their complaints, one woman demanding to speak to a manager, but Merrick waved them off with an apologetic yet firm gesture.
“I deeply regret the inconvenience, but this is non-negotiable. Please, feel free to return tomorrow, and I assure you we’ll make it worth your while. Thank you for your understanding.”
Some left grumbling, while others glared at him on their way out. Within minutes, the store was cleared, and Merrick wasted no time gathering the employees—including Yumiko and Rayven—into the break room.
The break room was a stark contrast to the utilitarian back room. It was as high-end and stylish as the rest of Reverie Atelier. Plush velvet chairs surrounded a sleek glass table, and the walls were adorned with abstract art in muted, sophisticated tones. A well-stocked espresso machine sat in one corner, along with a cabinet of fine teas and snacks. Even the air here seemed somehow more refined, carrying a faint hint of bergamot.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Merrick paced back and forth in front of the group, his fingers twitching and his eyes darting around the room as though he were trying to solve a puzzle with no solution.
“Alright, everyone,” Merrick began, his voice tight with stress. “I have news. Big news. World-shaking, earth-rattling, life-changing news!” He paused dramatically, though the tension in his expression undercut the theatricality. “Kyosho Takeda is coming here. Today.”
The name hit the room like a thunderclap.
Yumiko’s jaw dropped. “Wait… Kyosho Takeda? As in the Kyosho Takeda? The world’s most famous fashion designer?!”
“The one and only,” Merrick said, running a hand through his hair, which had begun to lose its usual impeccable smoothness. “He’ll be here within the hour.”
Rayven let out a low whistle, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. “Wow. You’re not kidding about it being life-changing.”
Merrick turned to her with wild eyes. “Do you understand what this means? Kyosho Takeda isn’t just visiting for fun! He wants to feature this store’s attire during the Celestial Reverie Festival at the end of the month!”
“The Celestial Reverie Festival?” Yumiko asked.
Rayven nodded. “The big fireworks festival. It’s famous. People come from all over the world for it.”
“Exactly,” Merrick said, throwing his hands up. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If we pull this off, it could put us, mainly me, on the global map! But…” He groaned, biting his nails in a rare lapse of composure. “We don’t have an outfit ready to show him. Not only do we need something stunning—something that screams perfection—but we need someone to model it!”
He began pacing again, muttering under his breath. “Who? Who could possibly do it? None of the staff here are good enough. This requires someone special... someone extraordinary…”
Rayven leaned over to Yumiko and whispered, “Guess that means it’s not gonna be us, huh?”
Yumiko stifled a giggle, covering her mouth as Rayven smirked.
“Quiet!” Merrick snapped, turning back to face them. “This is serious! If we can’t impress him, it’ll be a disaster! A disaster, I tell you!”
As Merrick spiraled further into panic, biting his nails with increasing fervor, the door to the break room opened with a soft click.
The air shifted immediately, as though the very atmosphere recognized the presence of greatness.
Standing in the doorway was a man who could only be described as radiant. Kyosho Takeda.
He was tall, with a commanding presence that seemed to fill the room without effort. His skin was flawless, glowing faintly under the soft lighting, and his black hair was swept back into a sleek, modern style that accentuated his sharp cheekbones and piercing golden eyes. His suit was unlike anything Yumiko had ever seen—shimmering and reflective, as though it had been woven from liquid silver and starlight. It caught the light with every movement, creating subtle ripples of color that shifted between blue, violet, and gold.
He stepped inside with the grace of someone who owned every room he entered, his polished black shoes clicking softly against the floor. Despite his stunning attire, there was an effortless quality to him, as though he hadn’t tried at all to look this good—it simply was.
“Merrick,” Kyosho said, his voice smooth and melodic, yet carrying an undeniable authority. “Relax.”
Merrick froze mid-bite on his nail, his eyes snapping to Kyosho. “Mr. Takeda!” he exclaimed, his voice an octave higher than usual. “I—I didn’t expect you so soon—”
Kyosho held up a hand, silencing him with a calm but decisive gesture. “Breathe, Merrick. I’m not here to critique you. I’m here to collaborate.” His golden eyes scanned the room, landing briefly on Yumiko and Rayven before returning to Merrick. “But I can see you’ve already assembled a team. That’s a good start.”
Yumiko’s heart raced as she stared at the legendary designer, her mind spinning with equal parts awe and excitement. This is the Kyosho Takeda. And he’s here. Right now.
Merrick straightened, his earlier panic morphing into nervous energy. “Yes, of course! We’re ready to assist in any way you need, Mr. Takeda.”
Kyosho smiled faintly, a gesture that felt both reassuring and faintly intimidating. “Good. Let’s get started, shall we?”
Kyosho Takeda moved with a deliberate calm as he approached the center of the room, his reflective suit casting faint ripples of light onto the walls. His golden eyes scanned the gathered employees, lingering on each of them for just long enough to make them feel seen, yet without breaking the rhythm of his speech.
“I chose this particular branch,” Takeda began, his voice carrying the perfect blend of elegance and authority, “not by chance, but by design. Its location, mere minutes from the Celestial Reverie Festival, makes it the ideal stage for what I have in mind.”
The employees exchanged excited but nervous glances. Merrick, standing slightly off to the side, visibly straightened his posture, nodding along with every word.
Takeda turned his gaze toward Merrick, his faint smile returning. “Merrick,” he said, his tone carrying a teasing edge, “do you remember why I hired you?”
Merrick blinked, then placed a hand on his chest with mock flair. “Because of my charming personality?”
The room tensed for a beat before Takeda let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No, not quite.” His eyes narrowed playfully. “I hired you because you are exceptional at what you do. Your eye for detail, your ability to manage under pressure, your devotion to your craft—it all stood out to me the moment we met.”
Merrick’s grin faltered into something more genuine, and for a moment, the normally flamboyant man looked touched. “Thank you, sir,” he said softly.
Takeda continued, now addressing the entire room. “And because you are exceptional, Merrick, I trust your judgment. You handpicked every single person in this room, which means I believe in their talent as much as I believe in yours.”
The employees, Yumiko included, stood a little taller at his words, their nervousness giving way to quiet determination.
“And that,” Takeda said, his voice firm now, “is why I’m leaving the design of the festival’s centerpiece dress in your hands.”
Gasps rippled through the group. Even Merrick’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, you’re serious?” Merrick asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.
Takeda nodded, folding his hands behind his back. “I am. I’m holding a competition. Each of you will have the opportunity to design the perfect dress for the Celestial Reverie Festival. The winning design will not only represent this branch on the grandest stage imaginable, but its creator will also be rewarded with a promotion to the main branch store in the Kyoshan Dominion.”
“The Kyoshan Dominion?” Yumiko repeated, her voice breaking through the stunned silence.
Takeda’s golden gaze shifted to her, his expression softening ever so slightly. “Yes. My homeland.”
Yumiko’s brows furrowed in thought. “I think… my parents might have been from there,” she said hesitantly.
Rayven, standing beside her, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘think’?” she asked, crossing her arms.
Yumiko hesitated, glancing down at her hands. “I mean… I’ve never met my parents. I just remember hearing from someone, years ago, that they were from the Kyoshan Dominion. But that’s all I know.”
A heavy pause followed her words, the weight of her admission settling over the room.
Takeda broke the silence with a gentle laugh. “Interesting,” he said, his golden eyes sparkling with curiosity. “It seems both of you”—he gestured lightly to Yumiko and Rayven—“have stories worth sharing.”
Both women shuffled awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. Yumiko fiddled with the hem of her shirt, while Rayven scratched the back of her neck, a faint pink creeping up her cheeks.
“Relax,” Takeda said, his voice warm but commanding. “I won’t pry. However, I would like to know one thing. What brought you to Arkphis Institute?”
His question hung in the air, drawing every pair of eyes in the room toward Yumiko and Rayven.
Rayven broke the silence with a loud, boisterous laugh, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head, grinning with her usual confidence.
“Why am I at Arkphis?” she repeated, her red-tinted eyes glinting mischievously. “Honestly, I don’t have some tragic or dramatic reason, if that’s what you’re fishing for. I just thought the school had good vibes, y’know?”
Takeda raised a single eyebrow, the faintest flicker of skepticism crossing his features. “Good… vibes?” he repeated, his tone tinged with disbelief.
Rayven shrugged, completely unbothered by his reaction. “Yeah. It’s got this chaotic energy I like. Crazy fights, weird teachers, and all these Gifted kids running around doing wild stuff—it’s fun. Why wouldn’t I go?”
Takeda studied her for a moment longer, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to see past her bold words. But when Rayven gave him a cocky grin and winked, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.
“Well,” he said with a smile, “I suppose that’s as valid a reason as any.” He gestured lightly with his hand, his voice remaining calm and even. “You’ve given me your answer, and I won’t press you further.”
Rayven’s grin widened, and she gave him a mock salute. “Glad we’re on the same page, boss.”
Takeda turned his attention to Yumiko, who had remained silent during the exchange. She stood still, her eyes fixed on the ceiling as if deep in thought.
“Yumiko?” Takeda prompted gently, his voice breaking through her contemplation.
She didn’t respond right away. Her gaze stayed locked upward, her brows furrowed ever so slightly as if she were searching for something in the intricate patterns of the room’s polished ceiling.
The quiet tension in the air was palpable, and the other employees exchanged curious glances, waiting for her answer.
Yumiko’s gaze lingered on the ceiling, her eyes unfocused as her thoughts drifted to a distant, fractured memory—a memory she tried to suppress but couldn’t escape.
***
The first thing she remembered was the color white.
She was a child, no older than six or seven, wearing a plain white shirt and matching white pants. Her bare feet padded softly against the cold, sterile floor as she ran, giggling, alongside other children dressed exactly the same. The room they played in was massive, its walls stretching endlessly, pristine and blindingly white under bright fluorescent lights.
The air was filled with the sound of children’s laughter—pure and carefree. But it wasn’t long before Yumiko noticed the adults standing along the edges of the room. Men and women in identical lab coats, their faces expressionless, held clipboards and pens, jotting down notes as they observed the children. Their gazes were clinical, detached, as though they were watching experiments instead of kids at play.
Yumiko slowed her pace, her giggles fading into quiet breaths. She glanced nervously at the adults, her childlike innocence unable to understand why their stares made her feel so small.
Then the memory fractured—shattering like a mirror struck by a stone.
***
The sterile white room dissolved into chaos.
The air was thick with black smoke.
Yumiko’s ears rang as deafening alarms blared and the heat of roaring flames filled her senses. The once-pristine room was now a scene of destruction. Walls crumbled under the force of the fire, their white surfaces charred and cracked. Sparks flew from exposed wires, lighting up the suffocating darkness in bursts of electric blue.
Children screamed.
Yumiko stood frozen in the chaos, her small body trembling. She could hear the cries of the other children around her, their desperate pleas drowned out by the crackle of flames. A shadow passed in front of her, an older girl grabbing her arm and shouting something she couldn’t hear.
The flames burned brighter, and the memory fractured again.
***
It was February.
Yumiko was no longer a child. She was older now—17 years old—and her clothes were torn and bloodstained. She stumbled through a dense forest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she clutched her injured arm. Blood seeped between her fingers, dripping onto the snow-covered ground with every step.
“Arkphis,” she muttered, the word barely audible over the sound of her labored breathing. “Arkphis... Arkphis...”
Her voice broke as she repeated the word like a mantra, as though it were the only thing keeping her moving. Her vision blurred, and the icy wind stung her face, but she kept running.
Behind her, a voice called out, sharp and filled with venom.
“You think you can escape, Yumiko?! We won’t stop until we see you dead! Do you hear me? DEAD!”
Yumiko’s breath hitched, fear clawing at her chest. Her legs burned as she pushed herself to keep going, each step an agonizing effort. She didn’t dare look back.
The forest seemed endless, the trees closing in on her like silent sentinels. The voice behind her grew distant, but the words lingered, echoing in her mind like a curse.
The memory fractured once more.
***
Yumiko blinked, her surroundings coming back into focus. She was back in the high-end break room of Reverie Atelier, the soft hum of its ambient lighting and the faint scent of freshly brewed tea grounding her in the present.
Takeda’s golden eyes were on her, his expression calm but expectant. “And you, Yumiko?” he asked again, his voice gentle. “Why are you at Arkphis?”
Yumiko hesitated for a brief moment, her smile bright but slightly strained as she looked at him.
“Oh, I’m the same as Rayven,” she said cheerfully, waving her hand dismissively. “No real reason. Circumstances just kinda led me there, I guess.”
Rayven glanced at her, raising an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Takeda studied Yumiko carefully, his sharp gaze lingering on her as though he could see the cracks in her mask. But after a moment, he gave her a small, understanding nod.
“Fair enough,” he said, his tone light but thoughtful. “Sometimes, life’s circumstances lead us to places we never expected. And those places can reveal things about ourselves we never knew.”
Yumiko’s smile remained, but her hands fidgeted slightly behind her back.