Chapter 193 The Match Begins

Chapter 193 The Match Begins

Sophia's POV

Watching Betty cry so pitifully, Maria let out a sigh and decided not to push the matter further, though her worry for my situation only grew deeper.

"Attention all competing designers, ten minutes until the competition officially begins. Please keep quiet and check your equipment."

The host's sharp, penetrating voice carried through the microphone to every corner of the main arena.

The contestants, who had just been buzzing over the jaw-dropping drama from moments ago, were instantly snapped back to reality.

The tension of the competition settled over everyone like an invisible net dropping from above.

Across the spacious arena, hundreds of individual workstations stood in neat rows.

The lights were focused and bright, and cameras with full, no-blind-spot coverage had already been set up.

Lisa stood at her workstation, her face slightly pale. She gripped her brush, her fingers trembling faintly despite herself.

This was a global-level competition. Every judge sitting out there was a titan of the industry.

Placing here meant getting a ticket straight into the world of top-tier designers.

But one mistake, and not only would her career be finished, she'd also be letting me down.

The crushing pressure made Lisa's breathing quicken, and a thin layer of cold sweat broke out across her forehead.

She anxiously shuffled through the tools on her desk, feeling like something was off no matter where she looked. Even the sketches she'd carefully planned out in her head were starting to blur.

"Take a deep breath."

My calm, cool voice came from right beside her.

Lisa turned and looked at me.

I was leaning casually against the edge of the workstation, arms crossed, my expression completely still beneath the black cap pulled low over my face.

I looked less like someone standing in a high-pressure arena watched by the entire world, and more like someone taking a quiet stroll through their own backyard.

Watching how completely unfazed I was, Lisa felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of envy rise up inside her.

If she could have even a tenth of my composure, she wouldn't be falling apart like this right now.

"Sophia, I, I'm scared." Lisa's voice shook, her eyes full of self-doubt. "What if the judges don't like my designs? What if I run out of time?"

"Lisa, look at your hands." I straightened up and met her eyes with a steady gaze.

Lisa instinctively looked down at her hands, the ones that had developed thin calluses from years of holding a brush.

"These hands created Autumn Rhythm and left people speechless. These hands tailored the couture that brought Monze Group to its knees." My voice was quiet, but it carried a strange, steadying power, each word landing squarely in Lisa's chest. "You don't need to chase what the judges want. You just need to let whatever flows through these hands pour onto the canvas without holding anything back."

I leaned in slightly, and the tip of my finger gently tapped the center of Lisa's chest. "Remember, real design isn't about pleasing other people. It's about expressing yourself. You're sitting here to tell the whole world that you belong on this stage."

Those words hit like a shot of adrenaline, landing right in the middle of Lisa's racing heart.

Lisa's eyes grew warm. The fingers that had been trembling moments ago went miraculously still.

She drew in a slow, deep breath, and the anxiety in her eyes faded bit by bit, replaced by a steadiness she hadn't felt before.

"I got it, Sophia." Lisa nodded firmly and tightened her grip on her brush.

A few of the other young designers nearby, who had also been frozen with nerves, couldn't help stopping what they were doing when they heard me speak.

The way they looked at me shifted, a little less like deference toward a VP, and a little more like the quiet admiration and gratitude you feel toward someone who's genuinely strong.

A clear, sharp chime rang out.

The massive countdown clock at the center of the arena struck, and the numbers on the big screen jumped to life.

"Attention all contestants, this year's Global Rising Designer Competition will feature an unprecedented and demanding format!" The host raised the microphone, his expression grave. "After the first round, the judging panel will eliminate half of all competing teams directly. The number of teams advancing will be cut in half!"

The moment those words landed, the whole arena erupted.

Sharp gasps rippled from workstation to workstation, and the tension that had already been thick instantly froze over completely. Two hundred teams of the world's top emerging designers, and a hundred of them would be cut after round one? This was an absolute bloodbath.

At the same time, the live stream broadcasting the event online completely exploded.

Thanks to yesterday's stunning comeback at the branch company launch, the footage of Lisa on stage brandishing her tailor's shears and tearing apart a Monze Group couture piece, had already gone viral across every platform.

Now, tens of millions of viewers flooded into the live stream, and the comment section was an endless, scrolling wall of messages.

Plenty of viewers were stunned by how high the stakes were this time. Quite a few had already recognized Lisa and were eagerly waiting to see what she'd bring today.

The live director, sharp as ever, caught the wave of online buzz and immediately switched camera angles at the control panel, locking the main shot firmly onto Lisa's workstation.

The camera zoomed in. The high-definition feed caught not just Lisa's tense expression, but also me, standing right beside her, both of us now in frame.

I had on an understated all-black work outfit, a black cap pulled down low, most of my face hidden in shadow.

Even so, my upright, lean figure and the aura I gave off, cool and composed, the kind of calm that wouldn't crack even if a mountain collapsed in front of me, came through the screen and held every viewer's attention without effort.

Meanwhile, at the judges' panel directly facing the arena.

Joseph sat in the center seat, dressed in a perfectly tailored dark couture suit, his posture lazy but carrying an undeniable authority.

His long legs were crossed, and his well-defined fingers were idly flipping through the list of competing participants in front of him.

One page. Two pages. Three pages.

Joseph reached the last page, and a faint furrow crossed his brow.

Nothing.

He went through the entire list twice. Sophia's name wasn't there.

Assistant Loks had clearly reported that I had taken on this competition. So why wasn't I on the list? Had something gone wrong on the branch company's end again, throwing a wrench in my plans?

Joseph lifted his eyes, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his gaze. He tilted his head slightly and gestured toward the competition director standing behind the judges' panel.