When most people thought of a reception, they immediately pictured an upscale affair, and that was indeed the case.
The banquet venue was in the West Wing Hall of the Empire Palace, a space large enough to accommodate several hundred people.
Three enormous crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, each composed of hundreds of exquisitely cut crystals. They refracted dazzling light in the candlelight, bathing the entire hall in a warm, magnificent glow.
Waiters in tailcoats wove through the crowd with trays bearing champagne-filled flutes and an assortment of delicate pastries.
Among the invited guests, the men wore well-tailored black or dark blue formal attire, with badges representing their families pinned to their chests.
The women wore a variety of lavish gowns, their skirts shimmering like silk beneath the lights. Together with the jewels adorning their necks, they made the crowd look like a painting in motion.
All of this fit Greg's stereotypical impression of the privileged classes perfectly.
What he couldn't quite understand, however, was...
"Why am I here too?"
Greg looked down at what he was wearing.
He wore a well-tailored black formal suit, a silver-gray tie at the collar of his white shirt, and a pair of exquisite cuff links.
The suit accentuated his already tall, straight figure, making him stand out even among the glamorous people around him.
Yet he had no memory of exactly how he had changed into it.
All he remembered was working with Victoria at the construction site, mixing mortar as they argued endlessly over how to repair a wall.
Then a carriage had suddenly stopped in front of him. Under Victoria's utterly bewildered gaze, two well-trained maids had seized him by the arms, one on either side, and half coaxed, half dragged him into it.
Inside the carriage, he had