The First Elimination
855 Words
The rest of the day passed in a blur of fabric scraps, pencil shavings, quiet panic, and whispered prayers. The contestants worked relentlessly, each trying to impress the one man everyone feared the most.
But Nablis didn’t think of him as the Fashion King anymore.
To her, he was something worse:
A challenge she refused to lose to.
By late afternoon, Studio Three was silent except for the soft scratching of pencils. Nablis sat back, stretching her aching fingers, staring at the full sketch she’d created.
Strong lines.
Bold silhouette.
Confidence she didn’t know she had.
She smiled softly.
Maybe she could do this.
But the moment the thought formed, an announcement echoed through the speakers:
“All contestants, please gather in the main hall for today’s preliminary evaluation.
This is your first elimination round.”
Her heart dropped.
Already?
The other designers exchanged nervous glances. Bags zipped. Papers shuffled. No one spoke.
They all knew what this meant:
Some of them wouldn’t be returning tomorrow.
---
The main hall was cold and too bright, filled with rows of anxious contestants standing in their assigned spots. The giant stage loomed ahead, and above it, the competition’s golden logo glowed like a warning.
Nablis stood in Row Four, clutching her sketch to her chest. She tried to calm her breathing, but her chest felt tight.
Then the audience went silent.
Felix Lenoir walked onto the stage.
Black suit.
Silver tie.
Eyes sharp as polished steel.
The moment he appeared, the entire atmosphere shifted. Everyone straightened. No one dared to blink.
Felix stood at the center of the stage and surveyed the contestants with a cool detachment—as if he were inspecting soldiers, not designers.
When his gaze swept past Nablis, she felt it.
Like a cold arrow shot straight at her.
She lifted her chin.
She wasn’t afraid.
Not anymore.
Felix spoke, his voice steady and deep:
“You were given one day. One task. One chance to prove you deserve to stay.”
He paused, letting the pressure settle in the room like smoke.
“Today’s elimination will be simple.
Each contestant submitted a design sketch.
My team has reviewed them.”
His eyes flicked toward Nablis briefly.
“And I have the final say.”
The tension in the room became unbearable.
A woman next to Nablis whispered shakily, “I feel like I’m going to faint…”
Nablis didn’t answer.
She couldn’t trust her own voice.
Felix continued, “When I call your name, step forward. If your name is not called…”
He didn’t need to finish.
Everyone knew what came next.
A staff member handed him a digital tablet. Felix glanced at it, then announced:
“First—Emanuel Rake.”
A tall man stepped forward, trembling.
“You may stay.”
He sighed in relief and nearly collapsed.
Names continued.
One by one.
Safe.
Safe.
Eliminated.
Safe.
Eliminated.
The eliminated designers walked off the stage silently, some holding back tears, some too shocked to move.
Nablis’s pulse roared in her ears.
Then—
Felix paused.
A long pause.
Too long.
Finally:
“Nablis Hale.”
Her stomach flipped.
Her hands tightened around her sketch.
“Step forward,” he commanded.
Her legs felt heavy as she walked toward the front. Dozens of eyes followed her.
Felix watched her the whole time—expression unreadable.
She stood directly below the stage, chin up, refusing to look away.
He slowly lowered the tablet.
His voice, when he spoke, was cool and steady:
“Your sketch was… unexpected.”
A soft whisper ran through the hall.
Felix walked to the edge of the stage and looked down at her, his eyes locked onto hers.
“You don’t design like a beginner,” he said. “But you think like one.”
What was that supposed to mean?
He continued, “You take bold risks, but you hesitate to commit. Your lines fight each other. Your concept challenges modern taste, but your confidence doesn’t match your vision.”
His words were sharp—criticizing but strangely careful.
She swallowed.
“Does that mean I failed?”
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Then Felix’s expression shifted by one degree—barely noticeable, but real.
“No,” he said quietly. “You passed.”
The hall erupted in relieved sighs.
Nablis didn’t breathe.
“You may stay,” he said firmly, eyes still on her. “For now.”
“For now?” she muttered under her breath.
His lips twitched—almost like he heard her. Almost like he wanted to smile but refused.
“Return to your spot,” he said.
She walked back, pulse still racing, heart pounding.
The moment she reached her row, the woman beside her whispered, “Girl, what did you do? He talked to you like he knew you!”
Nablis looked down at her trembling hands.
Because he does… sort of.
But she didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
Her mind replayed his voice, low and sharp:
“You passed… for now.”
She wasn’t sure if that was a threat
or a promise.
---
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD