Chapter 175 Confrontation Before the Final
The theme for the third round was quickly announced—"Symbiosis."
It was a word rich with philosophical meaning, open to interpretations like dependence, entanglement, mutual benefit, or even consumption and being consumed.
It was like a mirror, reflecting each designer's deepest thoughts.
The contestants scattered, each searching for their own inspiration. Cecilia grabbed her sketchbook and casually found a seat by the window. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting warm patches of light on her.
Having shed the double burden of Rufus and Bronte, Cecilia's mind was clearer than ever.
"Symbiosis."
Cecilia thought of herself and this body's original owner Amelia—a strange continuation of souls; she thought of herself with Robert and Mabel—a responsibility passively accepted yet willingly shouldered; she even thought of herself and Stefan—a dangerous game of mutual use and mutual achievement.
Wasn't every relationship in life a form of "symbiosis"?
Just as Cecilia's inspiration was flowing and her pen was racing across the paper, an unwelcome shadow fell over her.
Cecilia didn't even bother to look up—she already knew who it was.
"Amelia."
Isadora's voice came from above, deliberately lowered but unable to hide its sharpness and spite.
"Don't think you've already won. You think the new format works in your favor, but it'll just make your failure more embarrassing." Isadora crossed her arms, looking down at Cecilia. "The buzz Mr. Hensley bought you might fool the audience, but it won't fool the judges. Design is about substance, not some house of cards built on hype."
Apparently feeling this verbal attack wasn't enough, Isadora leaned forward slightly and added in a volume only they could hear, with contempt: "This round, I'll show you what real design looks like. I'll crush that pathetic little advantage of yours, bit by bit. I'll make you understand that a fake will never measure up to the real thing."
Cecilia finally stopped her pen.
She slowly looked up. In those clear eyes was not the expected anger or panic, but only pure, indifferent calm—as if looking at a fly buzzing noisily in her ear.
"Ms. Penrose, instead of wasting time here talking nonsense, you'd be better off spending more effort on your design."
As Cecilia spoke, her gaze swept unhurriedly over Isadora, her lips curving into a slightly mocking smile.
"After all, you're always trailing me by hundreds of thousands of votes, always stuck underneath. That must not feel great, right? If you don't work harder, I'm afraid you won't even make it to the finals."
"You!" Isadora's face instantly flushed red.
But Cecilia no longer looked at her, calmly returning her attention to her sketchbook. She even murmured something to herself, soft as the wind, yet just loud enough for Isadora to hear.
"A loser's bark is always especially loud."
Isadora trembled with rage, her nails digging deep into her palms, but she couldn't get out a single word of rebuttal. In the face of absolute dominance in results, any argument seemed pale and powerless.
Isadora stared hard at Cecilia's focused profile, and finally could only grind her teeth and storm off in frustration.
Cecilia wasn't affected by this little interruption at all. Her design inspiration, after the confrontation with Isadora, actually became even clearer and sharper.
Cecilia decided to name her work 'Armor of Symbiosis'.
The main piece was a dress with strong structural elements—one half was soft and fragile silk and lace, like veins and flesh, symbolizing the host; the other half was hard and sharp metal and crystal, as if growing from the flesh, like a gorgeous yet dangerous parasitic armor.
The two parts intertwined and penetrated each other, seeming both to devour and support one another, creating a strange yet harmonious beauty.
More cleverly, Cecilia quietly incorporated into the metal ornaments of the "armor" section the core element from her previous round's work "Shattered Light"—those irregular, torn geometric lines. This made the two works spiritually connected, like chapters of the same story, demonstrating her depth of thought as a designer and the continuity of her creative vision.
The deadline arrived.
Cecilia confidently submitted her work.
All the contestants returned to the waiting area, awaiting the final results from the judges' scores and online voting.
The atmosphere on site became tense again, cameras sweeping across each contestant's face, capturing their nervous, expectant, or forced-calm expressions.
Media reporters were let in again, cameras immediately focusing on the key figures.
"Ms. Martinez! Are you confident about this round's work? Do you think you can continue your success from the last round?" A reporter thrust a microphone toward Cecilia.
Cecilia faced the flashlights with a confident smile and answered decisively: "Of course. I'm here for the championship."
A simple sentence, yet full of presence.
The camera immediately turned to Isadora on the other side.
"Ms. Penrose, Ms. Martinez is determined to win the championship. What's your take? Do you think you have a chance to overtake her?"
Isadora had already readjusted her expression, returning to her usual elegant composure.
She smiled at the camera and said, "The championship goes to whoever has the most skill and puts in the most effort. I trust the judges' professional judgment, and I trust my work to speak for itself."
The atmosphere on site, due to the indirect confrontation between the two top contestants, was pushed to a new climax.
Everyone craned their necks, waiting for the final results to be announced, to see whether Amelia could continue her dominant run or if Isadora could pull off a stunning comeback.
Just then, an unexpected incident occurred that no one saw coming.
The show's director Saul, the middle-aged man who was always rushing around backstage, now walked through the crowd with an ashen face, heading straight to center stage.
Without looking at anyone, he picked up the microphone, his voice hoarse with urgency.
"Amelia, Isadora."
Saul precisely locked onto the two focal points in the crowd, his tone unusually serious.
"Both of you, now, immediately, come backstage with me!"
The entire venue instantly fell silent.
Everyone's eyes converged on this abrupt scene. Contestants exchanged glances, while reporters, sensing big news, kept their camera shutters clicking.
What happened now?
Had one of them violated the rules? Was there a problem with the work?
Cecilia's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, a trace of doubt flashing through her mind.
Could it be that Isadora had pulled some trick?
Even at this point, Isadora still hadn't given up?
Under the gaze of hundreds of eyes in the venue, the two strongest contenders for the championship stood up one after another and followed the grim-faced Saul toward backstage.