“Wow, isn’t that Xylon?” Niamh suddenly gasped.
Xylon was a famous model who had risen from obscurity. Before his fame, he would create his own high-fashion outfits from tree branches, plastic sheets, and other found materials, film himself walking runways in hallways and fields, and upload the videos online. He had become a viral sensation, famous not just nationally but internationally.
Niamh had seen his shows; he could flawlessly model both menswear and womenswear with no sense of incongruity.
Right now, an assistant was helping Xylon into a long gown with a diagonal yellow-and-white checkered pattern. The dress was simple yet stylish and unique—clearly the work of a master designer. But for some reason, Niamh felt something was slightly off about it, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on what.
“Well, well, you even recognize Xylon,” Charlene said, walking up behind her with a mocking tone.
Niamh tensed up when she saw who it was. She deeply admired Charlene, an award-winning designer whose work had gained international acclaim. She was the chief designer for Jareth Media, and three of the ten summer pieces being shown tonight were hers, including the gown Xylon was wearing.
“Charlene, am I not supposed to be back here?” Niamh asked nervously.
“It’s fine, look all you want,” Charlene said dismissively.
She didn’t see the little secretary as any kind of threat. So what if she had latched onto Jareth? She might have taken Blaire’s secretarial position, but she could hardly aim for the design director’s chair.

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