Chapter 69: The Man Behind the Queen

After Adam and Steven left, silence settled over the LUXT–Zeus suite once again. The door clicked softly behind them, and the faint echo of applause drifted in from the Pavilion below, where another company’s presentation was underway.

The muffled rhythm of clapping and orchestral music seeped through the walls, a distant reminder that the competition was still unfolding beyond their quiet refuge. Inside, however, the air felt still—thick with the weight of anticipation.

The earlier laughter and chatter had faded, replaced by a calm focus that only came before something monumental.

Mindy stood near the center of the room, her gaze distant, her mind already moving ahead to the final masterpiece. The others watched her in silence, each of them aware that this last presentation would decide everything.

The four previous designs had already shaken the Pavilion—The Princess, The Betrayal, The Warrior, and The Queen—each one a Chapter in a story that had captured the audience’s imagination.

But the final piece, the one Mindy had called The Throne, was meant to complete the narrative. It was the culmination of months of work, the embodiment of her vision.

Without a word, Mindy turned and began walking toward the inner fitting room. The others followed her quietly, their footsteps soft against the marble floor. The door to the fitting room was slightly ajar, and when she pushed it open, the faint scent of fabric dye and pressed silk filled the air.

The room was immaculate—every garment hung neatly, every accessory arranged with precision. At the center stood two mannequins beneath the soft glow of overhead lights.

The first mannequin wore an exquisite crimson-and-black couture gown. The bodice shimmered with intricate beadwork that caught the light like embers, and the skirt flowed in layers of silk and tulle that seemed to breathe with every movement of air.

It was regal, commanding, and unmistakably powerful—the embodiment of a queen.

Beside it stood another mannequin, dressed in a perfectly tailored black and gunmetal tuxedo. The lines were sharp, the fabric rich and heavy, the craftsmanship flawless.

It was elegant yet restrained, designed to complement the gown without overshadowing it. Together, the two pieces formed a perfect pair—a visual dialogue between strength and grace, dominance and devotion.

The room fell silent.

Mindy stood before the tuxedo for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Her fingertips brushed lightly across the sleeve, tracing the fine stitching as if committing it to memory.

Her voice, when it came, was soft but heavy with meaning. "This," she murmured, almost to herself, "was never supposed to happen."

Layla tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face. "What do you mean?"

Mindy sighed, her hand falling away from the fabric. "The final masterpiece was designed as a pair," she said quietly. "The Throne. A Queen and the man who stands beside her throne." She turned to face them, her eyes calm but shadowed with something deeper.

"The male model we hired was one of those attacked. He suffered the worst injuries. He can’t walk the runway."

A ripple of unease passed through the group. Ana’s smile faded. Wade folded his arms, his brow furrowing. Zac exchanged a glance with Dante, who remained silent but tense. The weight of Mindy’s words settled over them like a shroud.

"So," Wade said finally, his voice steady but thoughtful, "we need another man."

Mindy nodded once. "Yes."

Her gaze drifted slowly across the room. It passed over Wade first, then Zac, then Dante. Each man straightened slightly under her scrutiny, uncertain of what she was thinking. Then her eyes stopped.

Directly on Matthias.

The silence deepened.

Ana, who had known Mindy long enough to recognize that particular look, immediately grabbed Layla’s arm. "Oh no," she whispered urgently. "We’re leaving."

Layla blinked, startled. "What? Why?"

"Now," Ana hissed. "We’re leaving now."

Mindy laughed softly, the sound breaking the tension. "I wasn’t looking at you."

Ana froze, then exhaled in relief. "Oh. Thank God."

The others chuckled, the momentary tension easing. But when Mindy turned her gaze back to Matthias, this time without even pretending to hide it, the laughter faded again.

Matthias noticed immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly. "What?" he asked, his voice low.

Wade grinned, sensing what was coming. "This should be fun."

Matthias’s expression shifted as realization dawned. His eyes widened slightly. "No."

Mindy blinked innocently. "No?"

"You’d be perfect," she said, her tone deceptively casual. "You have almost the same build as our original model. The tuxedo will fit you perfectly."

Matthias crossed his arms, his voice firm. "No."

Mindy stepped closer, her tone softening. "Why? You’ll look amazing."

He met her gaze directly, his voice sharp. "That’s bullshit. And you know it. You could alter this tuxedo for anyone."

Mindy scratched her cheek, caught but unbothered. "Fine," she admitted. "That part was a lie." Then she smiled, a small, knowing smile that made everyone else suppress a laugh. "But you really are perfect."

Matthias shook his head again, more firmly this time. "No."

Mindy frowned, folding her arms. "Give me one good reason."

He said nothing.

She waited, her eyes steady on him. "So?"

Finally, he exhaled slowly, a quiet sigh that carried more weight than words. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost resigned.

"You really want an ugly man wearing your masterpiece?"

The room froze.

No one laughed. No one spoke. Even Wade’s easy smile disappeared. Zac looked away, his jaw tightening. Dante lowered his eyes. The air grew heavy, thick with something unspoken.

Matthias’s voice was quiet but steady, each word deliberate.

"This tuxedo is beautiful," he said. "It deserves someone worthy. Ask Wade. Ask Zac. Ask Dante. Anyone. But not me. It’s wasted on someone like me."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Mindy didn’t move. She simply stared at him, her expression unreadable. For several long seconds, she said nothing. Then, slowly, she began to walk toward him.

Each step was measured, deliberate. The others watched in silence as she crossed the room, the soft rustle of her skirt the only sound. She stopped when she was standing directly in front of him.

Matthias was nearly a foot taller, his imposing frame casting a shadow over her. But Mindy didn’t flinch. She reached up, her hands steady, and gently took hold of his face. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of his silver mask, then the warm skin beneath it. She guided him down slightly until their eyes met.

Matthias froze.

The silver mask caught the light, reflecting it in fractured patterns across the room. His heartbeat stuttered, then quickened.

No one had ever touched him like this. Not since his mother. Not after the accident. Not after the burn that had changed everything. Not after people began looking at him with pity—or worse, disgust.

His breathing grew uneven. His eyes widened, searching hers for mockery, for pity, for anything that would confirm what he had always believed about himself. But there was nothing.

Mindy looked straight into his eyes, her gaze unwavering. There was no hesitation, no sympathy, no pity—only certainty.

"Look at me," she said softly.

He did.

"You’re not ugly."

Her thumb brushed lightly along the edge of his mask, tracing the line where metal met skin. "It’s only a scar," she said. "Nothing more. It doesn’t define you."

Her voice was calm, steady, but there was warmth in it—an unshakable conviction that made the words feel like truth. "Don’t let other people’s words become your truth," she continued. "Because they’re wrong."

She smiled then, a small, gentle smile that reached her eyes.

"Beauty exists in the eyes of the beholder. And when I look at you, I don’t see an ugly man. I see someone strong. Someone kind. Someone who protects others without asking for anything. Someone who carries pain without making it anyone else’s burden."

Her voice softened even further. "So you are not ugly."

Then she narrowed her eyes slightly, her tone turning firm. "Now. Say it."

Matthias couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. His entire world had narrowed to the woman standing inches away from him.

For years, he had heard only one thing. Monster.Disgusting.Hide your face.Ugly. Every mirror had reminded him. Every whisper behind his back had reinforced it. Even his own father had never been able to look at him for long.

But this woman—this infuriating, brilliant, fearless woman—didn’t even glance away. She looked at him as if nothing was wrong. As if he was enough.

His throat tightened painfully. The words caught somewhere between disbelief and hope.

"I..." His voice cracked. He swallowed hard. "I am..."

He hesitated, the old voices screaming in his head, fighting to drown out hers. But her eyes held him steady, anchoring him.

"I am not ugly."

Mindy’s face brightened instantly, her smile radiant. "There," she said softly. "See? That wasn’t so difficult."

For the first time in years, Matthias laughed. It wasn’t the polite, restrained sound people sometimes forced out of him. It was genuine—soft, warm, unguarded. The sound startled even him.

He looked at her, unable to look anywhere else. How dangerous, he thought. How can someone smile like this and make you believe yourself again? His chest tightened, his heart pounding harder than it had in years. I’m in trouble.

A loud cough broke the moment. "Ahem."

Both of them froze.

Mindy blinked, suddenly realizing her hands were still cupping his face. She dropped them instantly, stepping back as her cheeks flushed bright red.

"I—I was just—" She stammered, then quickly folded her arms, trying to regain composure. "You’re walking with me," she said firmly. "That’s final. And don’t ever call yourself ugly again."

Matthias smiled, the expression soft and genuine. "Okay," he said quietly. "I won’t."

Wade stepped in, grinning, eager to rescue his sister from further embarrassment. "Exactly," he said. "Listen to your designer."

Layla nodded enthusiastically. "Mr. King," she said, "you are ridiculously handsome. And that half-mask? It’s incredibly sexy. I guarantee women love mysterious men."

Zac blinked. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Layla said with confidence.

Zac rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe I should start wearing one too."

Layla rolled her eyes. "You’d look like someone trying too hard."

The room erupted in laughter. Even Matthias laughed again, the sound lighter this time.

Wade laughed loudly. "My little sister is dangerous. She doesn’t even know it."

Dante smiled quietly from where he stood, his eyes on Matthias. He hadn’t seen his friend laugh like this in years—not since they were boys. The sight filled him with quiet relief.

Matthias stood silently for a moment, taking in the scene around him. Layla was teasing Zac again, Ana was laughing, Wade was making jokes, and Dante looked more at peace than he had in a long time. Even Mindy, still flustered, was pretending nothing embarrassing had happened.

A strange warmth spread through Matthias’s chest.

His mother had died when he was young. His father had never accepted him. His stepmother had despised him. His own home had never felt like home. Only Dante and Zac had remained by his side through the years, through the pain, through the isolation.

And yet, today—after less than a month with these people—he felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Belonging.

He looked around the room again, his gaze lingering on each of them. Layla’s laughter, Ana’s dramatic flair, Wade’s teasing grin, Dante’s quiet loyalty. And then his eyes found Mindy.

She was standing near the gown, checking the hemline, her expression focused, completely unaware of the effect she had just had on him.

She had healed something in him that he hadn’t even realized was still bleeding.

A faint smile formed beneath the silver mask.

Thank you, he thought quietly. For looking at me without seeing my scars.