(Davies’s pov)
When standing before the mirror, I can’t help but recognize the ugliness of the clothing that I am wearing. It's an all-white attire with golden flowers etched over the collar.
“Who made this?” I asked Delilah with a contorted face.
Delilah is elated because of the ceremony, so she doesn’t mind my rudeness, “That outfit was crafted by the finest cloth maker from my pack. Why did you ask?”
While disparaging the weirdness of its structure, I insisted, “The clothmaker’s taste is quite distinguished. This isn't something you'll see around here.”
Delilah couldn't comprehend the sardonic remark. Instead, she believed that I appreciated the design and the cloth. She, therefore, embraced me from behind while declaring, “I am glad that you agreed to my arrangements.”
I pu
