Under the gentle sunshine of a sweet Saturday morning, the pre-wedding atmosphere for Huy and Anh Th? had begun to spread throughout C?u D?ng’s villa.

  In front of the villa gate, a fresh-flower arch rose like something straight out of a fairy tale.

  The arched frame curved softly, completely covered in cream roses and blush pink roses, interwoven with white peonies, pale pink baby’s breath, and cascading clusters of milky-white phalaenopsis orchids that fell like mist.

  Carefully selected green leaves — thin and glossy — added a sense of purity and lightness. Tiny golden string lights were cleverly hidden among the layers of flowers; though unlit in daylight, they still evoked a dreamy shimmer. The overall arch carried a pastel, fairytale palette — sweet yet elegant — making anyone who stood before it feel as though they were about to step into another world.

  C?u D?ng stood with his arms crossed, his gaze stern yet attentive, walking slowly as he inspected every detail:

  – “Add a bit more roses here,” he said. “My daughter’s wedding cannot afford a single flaw.”

  The designer nodded immediately, his voice firm and confident:

  – “Don’t worry, sir. We guarantee perfection down to every detail.”

  Inside the villa’s living room, the scene was even more breathtaking. From the high ceiling hung soft cascades of floral arrangements, interwoven with ivory sheer curtains that fluttered gently in the air-conditioned breeze.

  The ancestral altar was solemnly adorned with white orchids, peonies, and golden candles — warm, reverent, and dignified. Sofas, tea tables, stair railings — every corner was accented with fresh flowers, arranged delicately to avoid visual clutter. Crystal lights reflected off the marble floor, creating an atmosphere that was luxurious yet refined.

  M? Linh glanced around, a satisfied smile clearly visible on her face:

  – “This is good. Make sure that tomorrow, when the groom’s family comes to escort the bride, they’ll be completely stunned.”

  The staff member bowed slightly:

  – “Please rest assured. Though the design follows a fairytale theme, it still maintains elegance. Tomorrow, not only the groom’s family but all the guests will be in awe.”

  Upstairs, in the luxurious dressing room, the three sisters stood before the mirror, admiring their slender figures and graceful curves in their perfectly tailored áo Dài, freshly delivered by the boutique.

  Anh ?ào wore a pale pink brocade áo dài with delicate woven patterns. She turned lightly in front of the mirror, her eyes sparkling with delight:

  – “It’s so beautiful. These tailors are really skilled — my waist looks tiny.”

  Beside her, Anh Th? stood before a large mirror. Her wedding áo Dài, made of high-quality silk, hugged her figure flawlessly. The collar and sleeves were adorned with intricate lace, while Swarovski crystals caught the light with every movement:

  – “Absolutely perfect. Once my hair and makeup are done, it’ll be flawless.”

  Anh Ph??ng, dressed in a soft pastel purple áo dài, stood a little straighter, her confidence noticeably stronger. She tilted her head and smiled with a hint of pride:

  – “With the three of us looking this good, we’ll definitely get selected in the modeling competition next Monday.”

  In the adjacent room, Join and Mary were enthusiastically admiring the two áo dài made for them. Though foreigners, both had developed a deep fondness for traditional Vietnamese attire.

  Join held the outfit up against himself, laughing cheerfully:

  – “It fits perfectly. If I wear this to my graduation ceremony, I’ll definitely make new friends.”

  Mary gently ran her fingers over the smooth silk, feeling the meticulous stitching:

  – “It’s so soft. Before going back to Canada, I need to have a few more made.”

  The villa was filled with laughter, vibrant flowers, and eager anticipation. The wedding day was drawing ever closer, carrying with it the splendor of a fairytale dream on the verge of becoming reality.

  The morning in ?à L?t carried its signature gentle chill. Outside the flower greenhouses, small local houses appeared faintly behind rows of pine trees, their weathered metal roofs glistening with early dew. A narrow road wound its way between greenhouses covered in translucent white plastic, where the morning sunlight filtered through, creating soft, hazy patches of light.

  The air was fresh and cool, infused with the scent of damp earth and fresh blossoms — simply breathing it in was enough to make one feel at ease.

  Inside a large greenhouse, the space burst with vivid colors. Golden crystal chrysanthemums shimmered like sunlight; deep red and blush pink roses were neatly arranged in rows; everlasting flowers displayed a spectrum of vibrant hues; and hydrangeas bloomed in full, rounded clusters of blue, purple, and pink, like small drifting clouds. Workers moved swiftly yet gently, wrapping each bouquet in protective paper, tying them carefully, then arranging them neatly into large cardboard boxes for transport to Sài Gòn. The sound of scissors cutting paper and soft murmured conversations blended with the fragrance of fresh flowers, creating a familiar rhythm of labor that felt both peaceful and comforting.

  In the everlasting flower section, Trang stood silently, captivated by the scene before her. She wore a pale pink sweater and a white pleated maxi skirt that brushed her heels. Her smooth black hair fell naturally down her back. Without heavy makeup or bold lipstick, her face looked pure and fresh, her eyes bright and deep, as though she had blended seamlessly into the surrounding blooms. It was a beauty that was rustic and natural — not refined by any “industrial” standard, but radiating from simplicity and a distinct inner grace.

  The sight made Erion pause unconsciously. To him, Trang at that moment was not a princess nor a powerful figure of any kind, but a wild, genuine girl standing amid nature, belonging wholly to it. A beauty that required no cosmetics, no display — yet effortlessly captivated the heart of anyone who looked upon her.

  The other gentlemen and the little imps scattered throughout the greenhouse, each taking the chance to enjoy the scenery and breathe in the morning air, as if this moment were a rare reward amid days filled with tension.

  Din stopped in front of freshly picked red roses, their petals full and vibrant. Turning to the garden owner, he said:

  – “I’d like to buy some flowers. Please wrap them for me.”

  The garden owner nodded cheerfully. Though he didn’t say it aloud, he recognized the man before him as the wealthy vampire Count:

  – “Of course, Count. Please choose freely. I’ll wrap them carefully so they won’t be damaged on your way back to Sài Gòn.”

  Yin stepped closer, glancing at the workers busy at their tasks:

  – “These workers are humans, right?”

  The garden owner nodded lightly:

  – “Yes, they are — friendly people. They don’t know that I’m…”

  Din chuckled softly, cutting him off in a calm voice:

  – “It’s better that they don’t know. What matters is that everyone lives peacefully together and doesn’t think about harming one another.”

  From a distance, Chen approached with an armful of hydrangeas, speaking as he walked:

  – “But I see that most of the time, it’s humans who hurt each other — slandering, scheming, making life miserable for one another. The moment they see someone better than themselves, they can’t stand it and have to drag that person down to satisfy their own ego.”

  Charles also came over, holding several stems of brilliant golden crystal chrysanthemums:

  – “That’s the behavior of narrow-minded people who refuse to improve themselves yet fear those who surpass them. I’ve met many like that — they never acknowledge the talent or effort of others.”

  Chen glanced around the greenhouse:

  – “Where are the General and the Princess? And the little imps?”

  Din shrugged:

  – “Those two are enjoying some private time. As for the imps, they’re helping the workers bundle flowers over there.”

  Yin shook his head, a trace of concern in his expression:

  – “Letting them handle the flowers… they might end up crushing them all.”

  Din curled his lips into a half-smile:

  – “That’s still better than letting them do nothing but eat and sleep.”

  Yin noticed that Chen kept holding onto the hydrangeas, his sharp eyes catching the detail. He turned to the garden owner:

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  – “Please wrap those carefully. These hydrangeas are meant as a gift for someone special.”

  Chen flushed instantly, his reaction slightly flustered:

  – “I… I just thought they were beautiful, that’s all.”

  Din winked, his tone laced with meaning:

  – “Don’t forget to add a box of strawberries as well. You’ll make a much better impression.”

  Amid the vibrant blossoms and the serene atmosphere of ?à L?t, small conversations, fleeting glances, and unnamed emotions quietly began to take root — just like the flowers themselves, waiting for the day they would be carried far away.

  In front of the single-story house tucked deep inside a narrow alley, a motorized three-wheeled cart was enlisted to transport the wedding items. On its cargo bed sat a steel-framed floral arch and the ceremonial trays rented from a service shop, neatly arranged in proper order. The arch was decorated with fabric flowers in common shades of pink, red, and white, without lighting systems or premium fresh flowers. It was a level of preparation that matched the groom’s family’s financial means.

  At the same time, at C?u D?ng’s villa — the bride’s home — the wedding preparations unfolded on an entirely different scale. A grand floral gate woven from imported fresh flowers stood at the entrance, adorned with professional lighting. Tourist vans and private cars moved in and out continuously, accompanied by a full-service team handling decoration, catering, and filming. The entire space followed a carefully planned script, reflecting the financial capacity and event-hosting habits of a more affluent household.

  The difference between the two wedding settings did not lie in attitude or affection, but was clearly shown in material resources. The groom’s family chose economical solutions that fulfilled the essential rituals. The bride’s family operated with a professional event model, where cost and aesthetics stood alongside tradition.

  These two spaces existed in parallel on the same wedding day, each shaped by different living conditions and preparation styles. Neither was more correct, nor was either wrong — they simply came from different starting points.

  The groom’s home carried a simple, everyday appearance. The walls had faded with time, and the old iron gate had been carefully repainted, the fresh scent of paint still lingering.

  The space was neither large nor luxurious, yet everything was arranged neatly, as if each small detail carried the quiet effort of people accustomed to a modest life.

  If the bride’s side impressed with its polish, abundance, and refinement, the groom’s side felt familiar and close — true to the rhythm of ordinary life shared by most people. The disparity was clear, but it bore no judgment — only a quiet reality standing between two gates, waiting to be crossed within the same marriage.

  The tricycle driver wiped the sweat from his brow as he helped Huy and Mr. Tín lift the floral arch down from the cart, reminding them:

  – “Careful now — don’t crush your toes.”

  The steel frame was heavy. Huy moved slowly, straining to keep his balance. Mr. Tín stood on the other side, helping his son; father and son worked in rhythm. Eventually, the three men managed to place the arch in its proper position in front of the house.

  Huy panted, his shirt soaked with sweat:

  – “Man… why is this thing so heavy…”

  The driver adjusted a few misshapen fabric flowers and chuckled half-jokingly:

  – “You’re already complaining just carrying a flower arch. After you get married, there’ll be heavier burdens than this.”

  Mr. Tín shook his head, his voice lowering:

  – “Focus on working properly. If you keep living that carefree lifestyle, the in-laws won’t just let it slide. Your mother and I can’t shield you forever.”

  Huy grimaced, straightening the arch while defending himself:

  – “I am looking for a second job to earn more money, but I haven’t found one yet. It’s not like I’m lazy.”

  Inside the small living room, the space was simple but neatly cleaned. On the table sat husband-and-wife cakes, plump red apples, Thái Nguyên tea, a pair of dragon-and-phoenix candles, betel leaves and areca nuts — all arranged carefully. Mrs. Nguy?t held a cloth, gently wiping the apples one by one:

  – “Arrange things just right, don’t put out too much. The offering trays may be simple, but they still need to look nice.”

  A girl with red-highlighted hair was arranging the cakes into a tray, sighing dreamily as she worked:

  – “Seeing this wedding makes me long for it… I wonder if anyone would ever marry me.”

  A boy with purple hair shivered theatrically and teased her:

  – “Aren’t you preparing for a modeling contest? If you get selected, you might marry a rich guy.”

  The buzz-cut boy burst into laughter:

  – “I bet she’ll be eliminated right at the parking lot. No way she’s making it inside, let alone meeting some rich heir.”

  The orange-haired girl flushed slightly and put her hands on her hips:

  – “Hey, if we become famous, don’t come begging for autographs!”

  Mrs. Nguy?t smiled gently as she listened to the youngsters banter. Her voice was soft but steady:

  – “If it works out, that’s good. If not, that’s fine too. You’re still young — the road ahead is long, and opportunities are plenty. If this doesn’t succeed, you do something else. As long as you’re hardworking and diligent, Heaven won’t fail you.”

  Inside the small house, laughter echoed warmly. There was no wealth, no extravagance — but in every glance and every gesture lived a simple wish: a peaceful home, and a future built steadily by one’s own hands.

  At the Bình Chánh headquarters, the vast golf course stretched endlessly like a miniature prairie, enclosed within a colossal illusionary barrier. Outside lay a desolate forest no one dared to enter, while inside, the sky was clear and cloudless, sunlight gently spreading across the lush green grass.

  Floating scoreboards hovered in midair, their numbers shifting automatically with each swing. They glowed with a purplish-red demonic hue, creating the surreal impression of playing golf within an entirely different dimension.

  Demon King Satan stepped into position, his posture straight and composed, movements precise like those of a professional athlete. He raised his club, eyes sharply focused, then swung decisively. The ball shot forward, slicing through a carefully adjusted current of magical wind and dropped straight into the hole in a single stroke.

  Satan smiled in satisfaction:

  – “That’s more like it. A hundred years of practice wasn’t wasted.”

  Beside him, Princess Lita wore a sporty outfit — fitted T-shirt and short pleated skirt — her appearance playful yet full of vitality. She attempted a swing, but the ball veered off course. Trúc Di?n laughed and stepped behind her, adjusting her stance:

  – “You need to account for the wind too. Straighten your back. You look like you’re about to enter a boxing match, not play golf.”

  Lita flushed in embarrassment, shoved the club into his hands with a scowl:

  – “Here. You try it.”

  Trúc Di?n took position, his movements clean and confident. The strike was powerful and precise. The ball flew far before dropping neatly into the hole. He laughed openly:

  – “See? Ignore the wind and you miss immediately.”

  Annoyed, Lita walked over to Satan, pouting:

  – “It’s only because Father made the wind too strong.”

  Satan laughed heartily, relaxed and amused:

  – “Golf needs wind to be interesting. Go try outside — natural wind is much stronger than this.”

  Behind them, the Grand Madam Advisor sat leisurely in a chair, steadily knitting. Behind her stood rows of secret agents, motionless like shadows. Her voice rang out calmly:

  – “Tomorrow is the wedding of the girl named D?ng. Have you all finished your preparations? Erion’s group is still in ?à L?t.”

  Arian smirked, taking a sip of lemon soda:

  – “Everything on our side is fully prepared. As for Erion’s group, who knows.”

  H?ng Nhung reached for another potato chip and added casually:

  – “They travel through spatial gates. They’ll be fast. No need to worry, Grand Preceptor.”

  Satan turned to look at the old woman:

  – “And you? Will you attend?”

  The Grand Madam Advisor continued knitting, unfazed:

  – “This servant has no interest in appearing before humans. I’m considering how to most effectively utilize the active compounds in Velvet Crave petals.”

  Satan nodded:

  – “Do as you see fit. In that case, I’ll have the Empress and the Consort freeze-dry the petals and send them down here. They can’t be cultivated on Earth.”

  ***

  At the ?à L?t headquarters, atop a solid walnut table, flowers purchased directly from the greenhouses were neatly arranged by variety. Local specialties from ?à L?t were also divided into tidy portions, prepared as gifts. Erion took a sip of hot tea, his voice calm and steady:

  – “Same as last time, we’ll use the spatial gate. Tomorrow is the wedding — we need to return early to prepare.”

  In one corner, a group of lesser demons munched on fried chicken and drank Coca-Cola. One of them muttered:

  – “We handled them gently, but the flowers still got damaged.”

  Another let out a belch, looking dejected:

  – “So we had to buy all of them anyway.”

  Behind them lay over thirty bouquets of various flowers, their petals slightly bruised. Erion clenched his teeth:

  – “You’re all completely useless. This is infuriating.”

  Chen spoke softly, full of guilt:

  – “This subordinate wanted them to practice and develop some responsibility, but I didn’t expect…”

  Trang chuckled lightly:

  – “So what are we going to do with those bouquets?”

  Charles stepped forward to examine them, composed as ever:

  – “They’re not that bad. We can replant them or restore them with magic.”

  Din took a deep breath, his voice firm:

  – “Prepare to depart. Before returning to Saigon, we still need to stop by the Bình Chánh headquarters to deliver the gifts.”

  Deep within a vast forest, shrouded in drifting mist that clung lazily to ancient treetops, a massive cosmetics factory lay completely concealed from the outside world. Inside, however, the atmosphere was the exact opposite of the tranquil exterior. Demons moved in synchronized patterns like skilled factory workers, each responsible for a specific stage of production.

  Assembly lines made of dark alloy with a faint purple sheen ran without pause. Transparent glass tubes filled with viscous liquid emitted a soft glow. The buzzing of engines, the hiss of pneumatic pistons, and the clinking of glass bottles blended with the rustling of flipped logbooks, forming a steady rhythm — like the heartbeat of the factory itself. Enormous extraction tanks released a chillingly sweet scent mixed with strange medicinal notes, alluring yet dangerous.

  On the upper floor, inside a luxurious room entirely enclosed by reinforced glass, Nicolas sat before his laptop, the screen’s glow casting sharp shadows across his cold expression. Streams of data, charts, and candidate profiles flickered endlessly. At a smaller table nearby, Grimm and Kane were reviewing applications for the brand’s spokesperson model.

  Kane’s eyes lit up as he scrolled through a series of photos.

  – “Most of today’s applicants are beautiful girls. Faces like these would be perfect as brand ambassadors for the boss’s cosmetics line.”

  Grimm glanced over, frowning:

  – “Are your eyes on the back of your head? You call this beautiful? One look and you can tell it’s unnatural.”

  Kane scratched his head, puzzled:

  – “Unnatural? As long as they’re pretty, what does it matter?”

  Nicolas growled without lifting his eyes from the screen:

  – “You’ve followed me this long, worked in cosmetics this long, and you still can’t tell natural beauty from artificial? I need someone naturally beautiful, with noble bearing — not a face stuffed full of surgical work.”

  Kane grimaced:

  – “If that’s the type you want, where are we supposed to find her? Maybe… try the Dark Planet?”

  Grimm smirked and shook his head:

  – “Casting starts Monday. There’s no time. And the kind of person the boss wants… that’s a tall order.”

  Nicolas let out a long breath, fatigue evident on his face:

  – “The woman I need isn’t just a spokesperson. She’s the ideal I’ve always longed for.”

  Grimm glanced at Kane, lowering his voice:

  – “That… is beyond this subordinate.”

  Kane nodded in agreement.

  – “If it’s the woman you truly desire, then only you can find her, boss. We wouldn’t know who fits your taste.”

  Lost in thought, Nicolas stared ahead. His hazel eyes shimmered with a longing he couldn’t hide, as if searching for a silhouette that existed only within his own imagination.

  Inside a five-star studio, the crisp sound of high heels echoed rhythmically across the polished wooden floor. The spacious room was flooded with white light, large mirrors reflecting every movement. This was a catwalk training studio built to international standards, complete with a simulated runway and professional lighting systems.

  ***

  My strode confidently across the floor, her body swaying fluidly with each step. The catwalk instructor stood nearby, observing and guiding her:

  – “Relax your hips, just a gentle sway. Eyes forward. Always keep your back straight — that’s what makes the posture elegant.”

  My kept her gaze fixed ahead, the corner of her lips lifting with pride:

  – “This time, I will definitely become the brand ambassador for that company.”

  The instructor smiled, his tone gentle yet realistic:

  – “Then your competition outfit is crucial. It has to stand out. Makeup and hairstyle can’t be taken lightly either — you need a top-tier artist. Bad makeup can ruin even a pretty face.”

  My crossed her arms, her voice confident with a hint of arrogance:

  – “Don’t worry. My family lacks nothing. Right now, fame is the only thing that matters.”

  Under the dazzling studio lights, My’s footsteps continued to echo — carrying ambition and a burning desire for recognition — completely unaware that elsewhere, dark forces were quietly setting their plans into motion.