Chapter 1496: Chapter 1496

"First of all," Lory said smoothly, her voice carrying just enough warmth to sound inviting, "Allow me to express my gratitude for granting Allure this opportunity. I know the request was sudden, so thank you for your generosity."

Alinna’s cheeks turn red adorably at the compliment. She waved her hands slightly, almost girlish despite the stiff dress and careful makeup. "No, it’s fine. On the contrary, I feel happy that a prestigious magazine like Allure would interview me."

"Then the honor is truly mine." Lory’s lips curved into a playful smile, lightening the air for a moment before her expression shifted. She straightened in her chair, her bearing growing more formal. Still, she softened the transition with a reassuring smile, careful not to appear intimidating. The rıghtful source is 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭•𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦•𝘯𝘦𝘵

Alinna tried to mirror composure, but the effort showed. Her smile was stiff, and the slight tension in her shoulders betrayed her nerves.

"So..." Lory began, voice calm and steady, "what do you think of Harland? Of its people?"

Alinna clasped her hands on her lap, pausing as though weighing her words carefully. She drew in a quiet breath before answering. "Well... I like how warm and kind the people here are." It was the expected answer.

Lory chuckled softly, giving her an approving nod. "We’re happy you feel that way." She let the moment breathe before continuing with practiced ease. "By the way, how did you find Mr. Zhao’s exhibition?"

Alinna hesitated briefly, then answered, "It’s amazing. All the paintings are very grand and... beautiful." She lowered her gaze, embarrassed by how unsophisticated her words sounded.

Lory’s smile never faltered. "What about Mr. Zhao’s painting of Princess Lorient?" Her tone was light, almost perfunctory, as though the question were a casual afterthought.

But Alinna’s composure wavered. Her fingers tightened together in her lap, knuckles paling as her smile thinned. The name alone made her chest tighten; that painting, the one everyone praised, the one that had eclipsed her presence, was the last subject she wanted raised.

The weight behind Lory’s casual inquiry lingered. Zhao Li Xin’s painting had captured the resilience and strength of Lorient so vividly that it became the soul of the exhibition. The piece had stirred the people, dominated conversations for days, and, much to Alinna’s unease, upended the narrative she and the S.A.I.N.T. organization had so carefully crafted.

But more than that, it struck Alinna like a slap. A cruel reminder of the vast gulf between her and Lorient. No matter how she dressed, how she spoke, how carefully she played her role, she was nothing more than a pale imitation of the greatness of a woman long gone, a woman still etched into the people’s hearts.

"Miss Alinna?" Lory’s gentle voice cut through the silence.

Alinna blinked, snapping back from her spiraling thoughts. She looked at Lory for a heartbeat too long, then forced a sweet smile onto her lips. "It was... captivating, touching, and... moving," she said, her tone soft but strained at the edges. After a pause, her smile twitch slightly, "But still... It’s just a painting."

Lory tilted her head slightly, as though something had just occurred to her. "Is that how you feel?" she asked, her tone mild, but her eyes sharp with quiet curiosity.

Alinna’s hands tightened in her lap, fingers pressing against one another until her knuckles whitened. For a fleeting second, something raw flickered in her eyes, an unguarded confirmation. "Yes..." she said at last, her voice steadier than her grip.

Lory smiled faintly. "Is that so..." she murmured, almost to herself, before gliding smoothly into her next question. "Then tell me, what is your motivation to help all those people?"

The shift in subject was like a rope thrown to a drowning woman. Relief spread across Alinna’s face; her shoulders eased, and her lips curved into a practiced smile. She leaned forward ever so slightly, her eyes brightening with confidence.

"Oh yes, my motivation has always been about the good of others," she began, her words flowing as though they had been rehearsed countless times. "Since the day I was blessed with this power, I’ve only thought about how to use it for the benefit of many people. After all, what is the point of having such great power if I cannot use it to save others?"

Her delivery was flawless, smooth, and polished, the kind of answer designed to sound noble.

"That’s very admirable," Lory said warmly, her smile never wavering. Then she continued lightly, her tone deceptively casual.

"What do you think about the other healers and medics? They also dedicate their lives to health and saving people—without extraordinary powers. Would you agree that their cooperation furthers your noble cause?"

The question hung between them, simple on the surface but edged with steel.

Alinna’s brows knitted slightly, confusion flickering as though she had lost the thread of the conversation. "Well..." she began, lifting her chin a fraction too high, "Of course, their work is important. After all, every little effort counts, right?"

"Right," Lory agreed with a soft nod. "Then their existence must be important, yes? After all, no matter how good you are, you’re just one person. In the end, you cannot save everyone."

"—I can!" Alinna cut in abruptly, her voice sharper than she intended.

Lory fixed Alinna with a look of open doubt. Her tone remained soft and polite, yet the condescension lacing her words was unmistakable. ’That’s impossible, isn’t it? Even Princess Lorient couldn’t save everyone. In the war, she failed to protect the soldiers fighting at her side, and countless citizens still bled and died. Do you truly believe you could do better?

"Why not!" Alinna snapped before she could stop herself, the words tumbling out raw and unguarded.

Her eyes burned, not just with anger but with something more fragile: fear, jealousy, the gnawing need to prove herself. "I was blessed by the gods themselves," she insisted, her voice trembling at the edges. "My power is greater... I can save more people than Princess Lorient ever could."

Lory’s expression deepened as the truth unfolded before her, quiet comprehension settling in her gaze. She leaned forward just slightly, her voice carrying conviction. "So what you’re saying is... You believe you are better than Princess Lorient?" Lory provoked her further to see how far she would break.

Alinna’s lips parted, the word tumbling out before she could stop it. "Ye—"

The door banged open, the sharp sound cutting through the room like a blade.

Salvo De Rova entered, dressed in a white turtleneck beneath a light gray blazer, white trousers completing his pristine appearance.

His calm, steady expression shifted with faint surprise, as though he hadn’t expected the interview to still be in progress. Composure returned quickly; he bowed with polite precision, embarrassment carefully arranged across his face.

"My apologies," he said smoothly, voice low and even. "I didn’t mean to intrude on your interview, my Grace."

Alinna’s expression tightened. Her pale face betrayed what her smile tried to conceal. She looked not annoyed, but more like...afraid. "It’s... fine," she said lightly, brushing off the interruption.

Lory watches their secret interaction with narrow eyes. She now understands the dynamic relationship between Alinna and Salvo, and it’s more complicated and less sincere than she thought.

Salvo crossed the room with measured steps until he stood near Lory, his smile kind, yet his eyes held a warning glint. "Perhaps," he said gently, "You might return to the questions we agreed upon? We wouldn’t want anyone to... misunderstand our saintess’s character, right?"

Lory tilted her head, meeting his gaze without flinching. For a brief moment, the tension between them stretched taut as a wire. Then she returned his smile, equally polite, equally empty. "Of course not." She inclined her head gracefully.

Lory turned back to Alinna with the same warm smile as before, as though nothing had happened. Her tone was pleasant, measured, even gentle, yet every question from then on aligned neatly with the list that had been pre-approved by the S.A.I.N.T. organization.

On the surface, the interview returned to safe waters. Alinna answered with confidence again, her words polished, her poise restored. To any outsider, it would appear as though the earlier outburst had never happened.

The truh is, Lory hadn’t asked those questions carelessly; each had been a calculated strike. She wanted to see how far Alinna’s mask would crack, what pricked her pride, and, most of all, she wanted to drag Salvo out of hiding. To her satisfaction, the gambit worked more smoothly than she’d expected. Salvo De Rova had revealed himself.

Now, he no longer watched from the shadows. Instead, he sat across the room, one leg casually crossed over the other, his presence both imposing and inescapably intimidating.

His expression was calm, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his eyes, sharp and unblinking, fixed on Lory with the silent focus of a predator studying its prey.

Did Salvo want to make her uncomfortable? Lory almost laughed. It would take more than one brooding man to rattle her.

She continued her questions smoothly, not once breaking stride, even as she felt the weight of his stare pressing against her like a drawn blade. If her goal had been to provoke him, she had succeeded. Salvo’s glare said it all: she had annoyed him.