The room was colder than Evelyn expected.
Not temperature-wise—emotionally.
Halcyon representatives sat on one side of the studio, three of them, dressed in neutral tones that looked intentionally unremarkable. They didn't smile when she entered. They didn't frown either. They watched. Closely. Like people who had already made a hundred decisions today and were prepared to make a hundred more without explanation.
No assistants were allowed to enter with their models.
This was between the models and Halcyon.
"Evelyn Hart," one of the representatives said, glancing at her tablet. A woman, mid-thirties, sharp eyes, hair pulled back tightly. "Step forward."
Evelyn did.
The studio was simple—white walls, clean floor, a camera set up at one end, a long mirror running along the opposite side. No music. No audience. No applause waiting at the end.
"This is not a runway," another representative said. A man this time. Calm voice. Measured. "This is assessment."
He nodded once.
