Bug Fixes & Improvements
Our team has also been working hard on various bug fixes and general improvements to the app’s performance and stability. You can expect Dressrious to run more smoothly and reliably, so you can focus on what you love—discovering and perfecting your style.
And our story continues …
A Salon Story — Chapter 7
The Gossip News report had detonated across the Salon, turning the already chaotic scene into a crisis of international proportions. Guests, faces bleached white with fear, huddled together, their earlier chicness replaced by wide-eyed terror.
“We need to discuss how to handle this situation, and we need to do it privately,” the Secretary of Commerce insisted, gripping the arm of the still-furious Business Minister of the Frankish Kingdom.
“Is there a proper conference room?” the Minister demanded, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
The Head Waiter, looking utterly professional despite the unfolding disaster, replied immediately. “You may use the private suite on the second floor, Minister. This way, please.”
At that moment, the Ambassador’s terrified wife was gently brought back to consciousness. “Madam,” the Minister said, his tone softening slightly, “we must discuss this situation immediately. Please come with us.” The two dignitaries, the Ambassador’s wife, and four tense assistants followed the Head Waiter, hurrying up the stairs.
Meanwhile, the remaining Dressrious clerks scrambled to manage the crowd. “Please calm down!” “Please step away from the body!” “Our food is perfectly safe; I ate those apples myself!” they insisted, though their strained smiles failed to mask their fear.
“What a tragedy,” sighed Lady News. She quickly ushered Report Man and the distinguished doctor away from the scene, heading for a dimly lit corner booth. Trevor and Spion silently followed.
“This is Dr. Fit,” Lady News formally introduced the doctor. “He’s an old friend of my family, and a long-time regular here at the Salon.”
“Nice to meet you, Doctor,” Trevor said, still pale. “A huge shock. I was literally going to eat one of those apples.”
“I believe the other apples are fine,” Dr. Fit confirmed, adjusting his spectacles. “I’ve talked to several guests who ate them, and they show no ill effects.”
“So, the poisoning wasn’t general—only one apple, and the Ambassador happened to choose it?” Report Man countered, tapping his pen against his notebook. “I don’t believe that’s a coincidence.“
“Perhaps the Ambassador was simply allergic to apples?” Spion offered casually, his eyes scanning the room.
“No, this was clearly poison,” Dr. Fit refuted, shaking his head. “The symptoms suggest something extremely fast-acting—perhaps even Dragon’s Blood, but I can’t be sure without a proper lab test.”
Their hushed conversation was interrupted when the Duchess approached. “Hi, Trevor, I must leave now. Please give my warm regards to your father.” She then turned, surprisingly, to Lady News. “Lady News, thank you for suggesting Dressrious. It’s been a lifesaver since I had to lay off my dresser.”
“I’m so glad to know you like it!” Lady News replied warmly, standing up to wish the Duchess goodbye. “Do come to the Salon often so we can chat more.”
After the Duchess had walked a few steps away, Trevor frowned. “The Duchess fired her dresser? That’s surprising for her.”
“The Duke is facing serious financial issues,” Lady News revealed, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The Queen’s high tariff has clearly damaged his business.”
“I never heard a word about that in the news,” Spion said, looking genuinely confused.
“The press is forbidden from reporting any negative news about the Duke’s family,” Report Man explained with a small, cynical smile. “I guess they still have enough cash to cover up the bad press.”
Dr. Fit checked his phone, quickly tapping out a reply before slipping it into his pocket. “I think I need to go now,” he said, looking profoundly uncomfortable. “My wife strictly warned me not to stay in places where bad luck is rampant.”
But it was too late for anyone to leave. Just as the Duchess and several other guests tried to reach the exit, the main doors were violently thrown open. A dozen armed guards in crisp Prussian blue uniforms stormed the hall. They were the Fae Bureau of Investigation.
“FBI! We are taking control of this place for a federal investigation!” the head agent, a bald, muscled man, roared, his voice echoing through the stunned silence. “No one can leave!“