One of them spoke. "Lilah, you've got some guts. Those room pics on the forum? That was you, wasn't it? We'd still be stuck in those crummy rooms if not for you."

Lilah tilted her head, a glint in her eye. “If they don't respect you out in the world, don't bend over backward to respect them."

There was something about her conviction that drew people in. Smiles were exchanged across the table when a sudden murmur from a nearby table caught their attention.

Two Fauwille natives cast glances their way, murmuring in their local language. They radiated a particular arrogance. While their words seemed alien to many, Lilah grasped every syllable.

“Typical Hualand introverts. Always picking the farthest corner to sit," one sneered.

The other smirked and said, "What did I say? They barely have the chops for this. Deserve the sidelines."

"And that drama on the forum over a room? Pretty petty if you ask me."

“I know, right?" They chuckled, taking pleasure in their perceived privacy.

Without skipping a beat, Lilah retorted in flawless Fauwille language, “Funny how some folks are quick to judge. Is it insecurity? Scared we might outshine you?"

The duo from Fauwille gaped, clearly not expecting Lilah's linguistic prowess.

One recovered, reverting to English, “Outshine us? Everyone's seen Hualand standards slip. Wonder if you'll even qualify in a few years."

A chill spread across the table, and everyone felt the sting of the jibe.

Unfazed, Lilah countered, "We're here, aren't we? Some designers prefer the work to speak for itself, not bluster. It's a Hualand thing; you wouldn't get it."

"You!" That implied the Fauwille duo was both pompous and clueless.

As their dispute heated up, it became the main attraction for nearby designers, who tried to mask their amusement.

The man from Fauwille, trying to regain some ground, sneered at Lilah, "Think you're special? Recognize her?"

He gestured grandly toward the woman beside him.

Lilah's eyes widened just a touch.

"That's L.P. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?" he said, a smug smile playing on his lips.

A buzz went through the crowd at the man from Fauwille's revelation.

Many rose, drawn to his table like moths to a flame.

L.P had been the talk of the design world three years prior, a mysterious name whispered in hushed tones. The enigma of L.P intrigued everyone; they had all wanted a glimpse but never had the chance. Until now.

“one said. “Hey, L.P, I've been a fan of your work for ages, Another chimed in, "So young and talented. Care to share your journey?"

This supposed L.P, a Fauwille woman, appeared to be in her early thirties. She responded with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, radiating a touch of pride.