THE REAL PROTEGE

Ling Li's breath hitched for the briefest moment, instincts kicking in before thought could even catch up. Fatty. An accident.

Without hesitation, she rose, her movements fluid yet filled with urgency. The warriors of Otako watched in silent reverence, but Ling Li spared no time for explanations.

She didn't walk. She moved like a storm, her robes sweeping behind her as she strode out of the chamber, the tension in the air left hanging in her wake. Oda barely had time to register her departure before she was gone.

Her fingers flew over her phone screen, scanning the details.

Critical condition. Surgery. Unknown complications.

A cold determination gripped her chest — not fear, not doubt — just absolute resolve.

As soon as she reached the outer gates, her car was already waiting.

The moment the door slammed shut behind her, her voice was firm, commanding.

"Drive."

And with that, she was gone, rushing toward the hospital, toward the unknown, toward Fatty's fate.

*** Back present ***

Ling Li and Four Eyes, together with the rest, arrived back at the mansion.

As the mansion gates swung open and the convoy of cars rolled past the gravel drive, a subtle shift rippled through the air, like the first gust of wind before a celebration banner unfurled. Tension, thick and cold from the hospital, dissolved with every step they took toward the familiar warmth of home.

Inside, the sunset streamed through the grand windows of the entrance hall, spilling over satin fabrics and floral arrangements in progress. The scent of fresh peonies and faint perfume wafted in the air, mixing with the sound of soft music and hurried footsteps.

And waiting for them — standing proudly under the towering arch of the ballroom doors — was the full entourage of the wedding planning team, each member glowing with anticipation. Beside them were towering racks draped in protective silk covers, each one containing a masterpiece yet to be revealed.

"Welcome back!" chirped Belle, the lead planner, clasping her hands together. "You've returned just in time for the most important fitting session!"

Everyone instinctively straightened.

Lily blinked in confusion, then gasped. "Today?"

Belle nodded, practically bouncing on her heels. "Yes, the final fitting — for the wedding and the twins' birthday celebration. We've been waiting to surprise you."

Chatty whooped in delight. "Finally, something that's not terrifying!"

But that wasn't all.

A hush suddenly spread across the room as one of the assistants rushed forward to whisper something in Belle's ear. Her eyes widened before she turned back to the group, visibly trembling with excitement.

"There's… there's someone here to see you all," she said breathlessly. "He didn't announce his visit. He just arrived — straight from Paris. He insisted on being here for this fitting himself."

Gasps and exchanged glances filled the air. Shun arched a brow. "Wait. He? Who?"

Then, the double doors of the ballroom swung open with perfect theatrical timing.

And in stepped Léon Moreaux — also known as M, the world-renowned, couture-enshrined, avant-garde designer whose name alone caused fashion houses to quake and influencers to weep.

He wore his signature pale blue scarf looped artfully around a pinstriped coat and black leather gloves tucked under one arm. His silver-blond hair shimmered like moonlight, and behind his rose-tinted glasses, his eyes sparkled with devilish charm.

"Bonsoir, my darlings," he purred in his signature smoky accent. "Forgive the intrusion. I was dying to see how my vision has come to life on you. After all… what is genius without the proper canvas?"

Everyone stood frozen for a moment, except for Ling Li, who had a smirk — then chaos erupted.

Lily squealed and clutched Ren's arm in disbelief. "THAT'S LÉON MOREAUX!"

Ren, eyes wide, nodded slowly. "He's the one who designed the Empress of Austria's wedding veil last year..."

Even stoic Shun exhaled a quiet "Damn."

Chatty turned to Mushu. "I thought he only worked with royals."

Mushu laughed, "Guess that makes Madam Ling Li royalty, doesn't it?"

Four Eyes turned to Ling Li, squeezing her hand with gentle pride. "You planned this, didn't you?" His voice was low, warm.

Ling Li's lips curled into a faint, knowing smile. "He owed me a favor."

Léon glided forward with arms outstretched, his voice rising theatrically. "Mes étoiles, there is no such thing as 'just a fitting' when Léon is in the room. Today, we create magic!"

And with that, the silk covers came off one by one, revealing gowns and suits so intricate, so breathtaking, that even the most composed among them fell speechless. Lavender silks embroidered with gold thread, jackets adorned with phoenix-feather motifs, qipao-inspired creations that shimmered under light — each garment told a story.

The twins' outfits for their birthday were miniature versions of regal finery — playful yet elegant. A blend of traditional cuts with modern brilliance.

Then came the wedding attire.

The room hushed once more.

When Ling Li stepped forward, and Léon gently unfolded the final gown — an ethereal, multi-layered ensemble kissed with hand-stitched jade petals and a flowing translucent train — Four Eyes forgot to breathe.

He held it in her hands, reverent, speechless.

Léon leaned in and whispered, "Designed for a warrior who wears grace as her armor."

The mood transformed entirely. Laughter bloomed. Even Chatty cried. Mushu twirled in his coat and declared he would never take it off. Belle and her team snapped photos and buzzed around the fittings, their joy infectious.

For the first time in weeks, the mansion felt weightless, filled not with shadows but with light.

A celebration was coming.

A union.

A rebirth.

And everything, for just a little while, felt exactly as it was meant to be.

*** Moments later ***

The double doors eased open with a quiet creak, and for a beat, no one moved.

Then Ling Li stepped out.

She stood at the threshold in full bridal glory, her poise regal, her expression calm — but behind her eyes was the smallest flicker of emotion: something between restraint and radiance.

The gown — M's masterpiece — clung to her like a second skin sculpted from light. The bodice hugged her with hand-stitched jade-thread embroidery that shimmered subtly when she moved, catching every stray sunbeam filtering through the tall ballroom windows. The skirt unfolded around her like the petals of a celestial lotus — layered silk upon silk, flowing effortlessly as she stepped forward. Delicate streams of embroidered cranes in pale gold and silver seemed to soar across the train when she walked.