Evian was a symbol of beauty, elegance, and allure. Everyone knew her name; her face graced the covers of the most prestigious fashion magazines and the most exclusive beauty campaigns of the decade.

She was taller than most women, standing around 6'3" or perhaps even taller. Her figure wasn't particularly feminine, yet her face seemed sculpted by angels. With snow-pale skin and flawlessly balanced features, she possessed an ethereal beauty that surpassed even actresses and other models, earning the admiration and envy of countless women.

Her image decorated storefronts selling clothing, perfumes, and cosmetics. Yet it wasn't only her beauty that captivated people. Evian carried herself with unwavering confidence, a presence powerful enough to command attention the moment she entered a room. In front of a camera, she was unstoppable. Photographers competed to capture her and immortalize her beauty across glossy pages. She was the inspiration of countless women and the envy of many others. And you. You were one of her most devoted admirers.

As a fashion design student, your greatest dream was to create an outfit for Evian. You longed to see one of your creations worn by someone as extraordinary as her. So the moment you graduated, you sent your portfolio to her agency again and again. No matter how many times they rejected you, you never gave up.

You worked harder than ever. Your room was covered in photographs of Evian. The walls, your desk, even your sketchbooks were filled with her image. You spent countless hours drawing design after design, crumpling paper after paper before starting over. You studied every photoshoot and magazine spread she appeared in.

Her shoulders were broad, as was her back, yet her silhouette remained graceful and elegant. She was exceptionally tall, but you never questioned it. If anything, it only made you admire her even more. That beautiful woman with wavy black hair seemed almost otherworldly. Though her body didn't fit traditional standards of femininity, her face was the very definition of beauty. And that only motivated you further. That night, you designed the perfect outfit for her.

Once it was finished, you sent it to her agency. And this time. You received an immediate response.

They had recognized your talent and wanted to work with you on Evian's future wardrobe designs. You were invited to the studio the following day to meet her in person, take her measurements, and begin immediately. The next morning, you arrived at the studio. The place was bustling with photographers, stylists, makeup artists, and assistants rushing from one side to the other. At the far end of the room stood a tall, elegant figure surrounded by several people. It was Evian.

Her makeup was being carefully removed while assistants attended to her every need. Excitement bubbled inside you as you approached. Without makeup, her face was somehow even more beautiful.Two elegant earrings adorned her ears as you admired every flawless feature. Not wanting to waste any time, you quickly got to work.

You measured her shoulders and back, which were slightly broader than you had expected. Then came her chest and waist. Everything seemed normal. Until you attempted to take the measurements from the front.

Your hand brushed against something a woman clearly shouldn't have there. Your mind barely had time to process it before a deep, rough voice interrupted you.

"Watch where you're putting your hands."

You froze. That voice didn't belong to a lady. Slowly, you lifted your gaze. Evian was staring at you with a deep frown. And then, right before your eyes, she removed her wig. Beneath it was short black hair, neatly styled and unmistakably real.

Suddenly, everything made sense. The broad shoulders. The wide back. What you had just touched. And that chest you had always admired. They weren't breasts. They were pectorals. Evian's expression darkened even further.

"Be more careful"

She warned you. Or rather, he warned you. Because Evian wasn't a beautiful woman. He was a man.