By the time Rymora returned to the room, her eyes widened in disbelief. Aria stood before the mirror in a black silky gown—one that clung to her figure and was, to Rymora's shock, even shorter than the flimsy white one she'd worn earlier.
That alone stunned her. Aria despised short clothes. She had always gone out of her way to cover herself, avoiding even the slightest exposure. This—this was entirely out of character.
But what truly puzzled Rymora was when Aria reached for a thin black jacket—one with delicate lapels and small pockets lining either side—and casually slipped it on.
Brows furrowed, Rymora moved toward the writing desk, her mind reeling. She grabbed a small sheet of parchment and quickly scribbled a question with neat strokes before holding it up: "This is what you're wearing?"
Aria didn't even need to take the paper from her. She simply glanced at it and smiled.
"Yes," she replied, her voice strangely light, almost playful. "I think it suits the theme."
