'Speech?'

'Hah. What am I even going to say?'

Florian ascended the grand staircase, his footsteps light but his heart heavy. Just ahead, Heinz and Scarlett stood together. Scarlett stubbornly avoided his gaze, while Heinz, for a fleeting moment, seemed caught off guard, his expression unreadable.

Florian knew why. Heinz hadn't expected him to be wearing makeup.

A pang of self-consciousness hit Florian. Lately, he had been making deliberate efforts to appear more masculine—choosing structured outfits, adjusting his posture, even controlling the way he moved. Yet, no matter what he did, his face remained undeniably delicate, the one trait that stubbornly tethered him to the past.

'He's probably getting flashbacks of the real Florian.'