The horses neigh as they pull a carriage down the street. The vehicle takes swift and sudden turns on the road, causing its wheels to screech. Then, the coachman swings his reins.

     Oliver and the Fuers sit inside the carriage. They gawk at the window, refusing to make eye contact with each other. Oliver glances at the sky through the glossy glass and sees white clouds painting the sky, obscuring the bright sunlight.

Suddenly, Layla stomped her parasol on the carriage's floor, causing Oliver to gasp and look at her. "Don't mess this up, okay?" Layla said and pointed at Oliver.

"...Y-y-yes," Oliver responded, stuttering in surprise.

     Layla cleared her throat and glared at Oliver. Then, it was silent inside the carriage. The stillness broke when Alexander gasped and grabbed Layla on her shoulder as he pointed through the window.

"Crowds!?" Alexander gasped.

     The carriage stopped at the church, and the bustling mobs on the street surrounded the vehicle. The coachman hopped off and squeezed through the roaring crowds. Then, he opened the carriage's door for Oliver and the Fuers.

     Oliver and the Fuers jump off the carriage. Upon seeing the crowds, Oliver immediately freezes and feels his feet glued to the concrete floor. He senses cold ripples hastening across his spine. Then, the air around him becomes thick, causing him to breathe heavily and loudly.

     The crowds gasped when their gazes landed on the Remaining Podeshire. Everyone became quiet as their eyes widened. All eyes turned towards Oliver. Then, the mobs began murmuring, and their mumbles filled the air.

"The groom does look like... Albert Podeshire..."

"Is he the Remaining Podeshire...?"

"Is it true, they say, he is a Podeshire??"

The crowds then looked at the Fuers.

"Who spread this news?" Layla growled, squeezing Alexander's arm.

The priest walked forward and welcomed them. "Welcome, Oliver Podeshire, to your wedding!"

The crowds broke into loud jeers and surrounded the Fuers.

"Scumbags!!" a woman yelled.

"How dare you hide him from us!" another woman shouted.

"What have you been doing to the Remaining Podeshire, you selfish people!?" a stranger jeered.

"You bloody embodiments of greed! You faked your address and selfishly took away the Remaining Podeshire!" another one called out.

"There had been natural disasters that the Podeshire could save us from, yet you've decided to keep him for yourselves!!" a middle-aged lady shrieked.

Layla then burst out in anger. "...Move! All of you aren't invited to the wedding!!" she yelled, thrashing her hands as she lowered her head.

     As the priest led the way into the church, Oliver followed behind, his eyes fixed on the floor. His hands began to shiver, and his breathing grew shallow and loud as he walked down the spacious aisle. A blurry vision warped around his eyes—as if the ground was tilting beneath his feet.

     Oliver could hear the furious, muffled roars of the crowd outside, and he knew that his identity had been revealed. The sound made him question his safety, realizing that danger was imminent and could come from any direction. He felt his stinging fear stabbing every inch of his skin.

     Oliver reaches the altar and climbs on the stage. He then stands in a stiff position, staring at the floor. Sweat begins dripping on his forehead as the heaviness of his fear lies on his shoulders.

     Unexpectedly, the crowd outside bursts through the entrance and rushes inside the church. Countless men and women hasten across the aisle. The mobs cheer and whistle as they fill every seat inside the enormous building.

"Oh, dear Lord! It's Oliver! It's Oliver!" a woman shrieked.

"God bless the Remaining Podeshire!" a man chanted and raised his fist into the air.

"Oliver! Look at me!! Look at me!! Agh!! He looked at me!" a young lady squealed as the Remaining Podeshire cast a quick, furtive glimpse of her.

"He has a bride, woman! He has a bride!" Layla knocked the lady's head as she pushed through the crowds with Alexander.

     Oliver's head turns to the crowds. He watches the once-empty church become bustling. Every corner floods with men and women.

     Scared and overwhelmed with apprehension, Oliver's jaw begins to shiver. He feels his heart punching through his chest, and his breathing becomes short but heavy. Oliver tries to steady himself, but his body doesn't stop trembling. Oliver's sweaty hands feel cold as they quiver.

     Oliver glances left and right, looking across an ocean of heads staring at him back. But, slowly, his vision becomes blurry, his mind twisting with opaque fog. Oliver's eyes become clouded with fear, and he cannot see anyone's face through the haze in his eyes.

     Peering into the crowds, Oliver's chest heaves with each short breath as he pants and pleads for air. And he feels like he's on the verge of collapsing. He attempts to calm himself down, but the panic is too intense, and he feels no control.

     Oliver kept his mouth shut as he paced further away from the crowds and deeper into the altar. As he marched back, he heard a familiar voice calling for him among the shouting mobs. Oliver raised a brow as his eyes scanned across the church.

"Psst! Oli! Hey!!" the voice called.

Oliver quickly raised his head and began searching the crowds. "Huh?" he wondered.

"Oliver! Over here!" the voice called out, and a pair of hands waved.

     After searching among the crowds, Oliver finally spots a man who puts a smile on his face. Oliver feels the haze in his eyes fading, and his heartbeat becomes stable and soft. Oliver grins, and his rising fear diminishes as he waves his hand and steps towards the mobs. Oliver saw none other than Gregory.

     Gregory steps towards the polished wooden stage, and the candlelights on the altar shine on his long-sleeved white shirt with ruffled sleeves and a tangerine collar. The warm tint on his collar matches the orange crisscross patterns on his black waistcoat with silver buttons. He then squeezes through his crowds and stands before the Remaining Podeshire, revealing his black trousers as his shoes reach the altar.

"Greg?" Oliver beamed a blissful smile. "How did you find us?" he wondered.

"I saw the crowds, and curiosity did the rest!" Gregory spoke loudly over the blaring noise of the crowd.

"What?" Oliver giggled, tilting his head.

"I said that I saw the crowds, then curiosity did the rest!" Gregory raised his voice louder as he grinned.

"You're the best!" Oliver chuckled.

     Suddenly, the massive golden bells on the church's tower begin ringing, startling Oliver as he gasps. The bells keep ringing, their metallic tones filling the room with a strong, authoritative presence that demands attention from anyone within earshot. The chime then reverberates through Oliver's body, sending waves of cold ripples down his spine.

     The blaring bells replaced the crowd's voices, and everyone turned silent. The mobs hurried towards the benches, rapidly filling every seat inside the church. The bustling crowds overflowed in every space.

"Don't forget your master plan," Gregory winked at Oliver before turning towards an available seat on the front benches.

     Oliver smiles at Gregory, watching his friend grab his seat. The two grin at one another as their gazes fix at each other. Oliver then placed his palms on his chest as his gaze slowly fell.