The capital was alive, almost feverish with energy.
It was the eve of the Blue Award Ceremony, and every street seemed to hum with anticipation. Cafés overflowed with chatter, restaurants extended their hours, and the glow of neon lights mingled with the constant flashes of reporters' cameras.
From the airport to the central districts, the arrival of world-renowned designers had already become headline material. Each designer came with a purpose, each one paired to an artist whose gown, suit, or performance they would elevate. In this industry, the hierarchy was clear—your designer said everything about your status.
Hotels near the stadium were packed. Artists, assistants, stylists, and fans alike had claimed every available space. Some fans had even pitched tents outside the newly chosen venue—a massive stadium that had been sold out within hours. The air there was festive, almost like a carnival.
