CHAPTER 1451: BENEATH THE SURFACE

Inside the Elysium, the sacred stronghold of the S.A.I.N.T. organization, a few different areas were carefully separated according to rank and purpose. Among them stood the grand place called Domus Angelica, a gleaming, opulent structure reserved for the Saintess herself.

White marble columns lined its facade, and sunlight spilled through tall stained-glass windows depicting ancient miracles. It was the second most spacious living quarter in the entire Elysium, surpassed only by the private residence of Alexander Behrenn.

Alinna paced the polished corridor, her footsteps sharp and uneven against the gleaming floor. Panic gnawed at her chest, each breath shallow.

The attacks had come one after another, fast and unseen, leaving not a single trace to follow. Whoever the enemy was, they moved like shadows, swift, uncatchable.

The not knowing was the worst of it—a cold hand squeezing her heart tighter with every passing moment. Yet everyone’s reactions remained calm, almost indifferent.

No one offered to soothe her trembling thoughts, no words of comfort to ease the weight pressing on her chest. They simply checked her over, confirmed she was unharmed, and continued handling the matters as if nothing had happened.

As she was left alone, she wondered why no one offered her a blanket during that situation, why no one soothed her with a hot tea and concerned look, why no one took care of her, wasn’t she important?"

Furthermore, Alinna couldn’t wrap her head around who would dare do this to her, who could be so cruel? Was it jealousy? Because so many people adored her? That had to be it... didn’t it? If not, then why would anyone hate her this much? Hadn’t she poured herself into doing good, into helping others? She had always believed people loved her.

Still in the midst of danger and chaos, Alexander Behrenn insisted on attending the upcoming grand art exhibition in Herriond, no matter what.

The very idea made Alinna’s stomach twist. Couldn’t they see the danger? Harland’s ruling elite had never liked her, nor the organization she stood for. Their hostility, though wrapped in polite smiles, was no secret.

The thought of walking straight into their territory made her skin prickle. She wanted to speak up, to protest, but the words lodged in her throat.

What if they thought her weak? What if they dismissed her fears? So instead, she bit her tongue and shrank back, praying, childishly hope, that somehow, someone would change their mind before it was too late.

With a frustrated sigh, Alinna let herself collapse into her ornate chair, its carved arms cold against her skin. The vast, glistening white of her bedroom reflected the afternoon light so sharply it almost hurt her eyes. She bit at her thumbnail anxiously, her mind a swirl of questions and fears.

There had to be a way out of this. Perhaps she could feign illness, but she was herself a healer; that wouldn’t work. Or maybe she could convince Alexander that her presence would cause unnecessary tension.

She rehearsed excuses in her head, each one crumbling under the imagined weight of his disapproval. What if he saw through her? What if it only made her seem cowardly?

Still, the thought of stepping into Herriond’s glittering trap—leaving the safety of her opulent courtyard—made her heart sink deep into her stomach. She truly didn’t want to leave.

In the midst of her frustration, the door to her room swung open without warning. Alinna startled, her brows knitting into a scowl as anger flared, she was ready to lash out at whoever dared intrude. But then she saw it: long blonde hair, fluttering gently as it caught the sunlight, each strand shimmering like molten gold. It was at that moment, her words instantly caught in her throat.

"Salvo..." Her breath faltered, hanging in the space between them.

Salvo entered the room with light, unhurried steps, an easy, devastating smile draped across his handsome face, a smile that could charm any woman with a single glance.

Alinna’s thoughts scattered like leaves in the wind, her earlier frustration dissolving into a haze. She found herself staring, caught in the warmth of his presence, until his voice cut through the spell and pulled her back to herself.

"Alinna."

She blinked, startled. "Oh—hello, Salvo. Why are you here?"

"I heard from the servants you’ve barely eaten today," he said, stepping closer. His tone carried the softness of concern, yet his eyes... they studied her too intently, as if peeling back layers she’d rather keep hidden.

"I just have no appetite," Alinna murmured, lowering her gaze. Her fingers twisted together in her lap, a failed attempt to control her nervousness.

Salvo sank to one knee before her, closing the distance with an ease that left her no room to retreat. His warm gaze lifted to hers, but there was something steady and unyielding beneath it, a quiet pressure that made her pulse quicken.

Her blue eyes caught the light, shimmering under the weight of his attention. The pounding in her ears was deafening, and though his smile remained gentle, she felt as though he was quietly cornering her, without ever raising his voice.

"Is something bothering you?" he asked gently.

Alinna caught off guard, lowered her head nervously "N—no, I’m not"

Salvo narrowed his eyes as though he could read her mind. "Was the last attack still frightened you?" His voice, though warm on the surface, carried a sharp undertone like a mockery.

Alinna flinched before she could stop herself, holding her breath as her fingers clenched the folds of her skirt. "I’m just... still a little shaken, that’s all." Her voice was small and trembling, like a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Oh?" Salvo tilted his head.

Alinna could feel his scrutiny of her, and her whole body became tensed. Alinna didn’t understand either, why she always reacted this way when she did something that she knew disappointed Salvo.

Though there was no doubt that she was attracted to this angelic-looking man, however, every time she did something that she knew would upset him, she always reacted like this, her body would taut, her pulse skittish.

She told herself it was only because she loved him too much, because it pained her to think she might have let him down. Yet, somewhere in the dim, locked-away corners of her mind, a small voice whispered something else, something she refused to hear.

"It was only a minor incident, Alinna. I never thought it would frighten you this much." He lifted a hand and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek in a slow, deliberate caress.

Alinna pressed her lips into a thin, straight line and swallowed down the words she wanted to say. How could she tell him that when she’d seen all those weapons aimed at her and the wreck of her car, she had felt her soul slip from her body?

If Salvo hadn’t carried her away, she doubted she would have had the strength to run. Even now, the nightmares still came, dragging her awake in a cold sweat.

"Do you know who wouldn’t be afraid of something like this?" Salvo’s voice turned cold as steel.

Alinna lifted her gaze. Their eyes locked. His smile stayed as gentle and warm as ever, yet his next words cut through her like glass.

"Princess Lorient."

Her hands twitched, her eyes trembling under his gaze. While his voice remained sweet as honey, yet beneath that sweetness, every syllable slid into her like the tip of a dagger, slowly sinking deeper into her heart. "She has lived under threat since she was a child.

They say she was only eight when enemy soldiers chased her. Not only did she manage to escape them, but she also remained unfazed when King Marcus and his subordinates found her. And you know what, that was not the last incident. As she grew older, there were more and more attempts on her life, yet she stayed calm, composed... dignified."

His smile never wavered, but his words pressed sharper, twisting the blade. "So tell me, Alinna—if Princess Lorient can endure such things, why can’t you?"

"I... I..." Her lips quivered, tears threatening to spill.

"Don’t cry," he coaxed, wiping away the wetness gathering at the corner of her eyes. "You are my princess, aren’t you better than that dead woman, Princess Lorient?"

"I am..." she answered without thinking.

"That’s right." He chuckled and clasped her hands excitedly. "Now, prepare yourself. Tomorrow you will address your people as a Saintess should, and we’ll attend that trivial exhibition at Herriond. We can’t let anyone think we’re scared, right?"

"Yes," Alinna murmured flatly.

"That’s my Saintess, my beautiful Saintess." His smile shone bright enough to forget all her doubt and uneasiness.

After finishing his coaxing, Salvo stepped out of the room and closed the door with quiet finality. The moment the latch clicked, he let out a long, controlled breath, less from weariness than from restraint.

The girl was far too weak, far too timid; he could almost picture her now, curled up in her chamber like a frightened bird, waiting for the storm to pass.

To match Princess Lorient of the Lucient family’s reputation, it required more than just beauty and similar ability, but it also demanded steel in the spine, elegance in every gesture, and the composure to face the world without flinching, just like Princess Lorient during the war. Unfortunately, those qualities, Alinna, were sorely lacking.

But he had no choice. Only she possessed the power that could fuse seamlessly with Zalchana’s might. And if she lacked the temperament... well, temperament could be taught. Moulded.

Beaten into shape, if necessary. A faint smile curved his lips. She would learn. One way or another, she would learn.

"How is she?" Ellias’s hands were clasped neatly behind his back, his posture immaculate.

"Manageable," Salvo replied without slowing his stride.

They left the marble steps of the Domus Angelica, their footsteps echoing in unison.

"The new batch of healers has been chosen," Ellias reported. "They’ll be sent in two weeks."

"That’s too long. Make it ten days. Zalchana’s already growing restless after losing connection with the Scion. Hopefully, this feast will calm her down." Salvo scoffed, the sound edged with irritation.

"Understood." Ellias accepted the change without protest.

"Any updates on who attacked His Grace and the Saintess?" Salvo shifted the conversation.

Ellias shook his head. "Our investigation points to the Neo-Liberal group in Rodent City, but I’m not convinced. As far as I know, they don’t have the resources or the capability to pull off something like this."

"Check it anyway," Salvo ordered.

"Already in motion," Ellias replied. After a pause, his tone dropped slightly. "A lot of things have been out of place these past few months. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?"

"Hm." Salvo’s vague hum gave nothing away. "Which is why we need to accelerate our plans. How is Igor’s experiment progressing?"

"So far, so good, Your brother, Sean, said that Mr. Renovich was very enthusiastic with the...challenge," Ellias replied in a calm, steady manner and continued. "Despite being a bit eccentric, and because of that, he was having a few clashes with Elena Reynold, but the results of his experiment about the mana deterrent device are promising. And he promised we can begin preliminary trials in three weeks."

"The sooner, the better. Tell Sean to speed it up. Once that’s done, we start with the WGA," Salvo ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ellias smirked, "As you wish, then...what about the Underground Guild?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Especially them." Salvo’s voice turned cold as ice. "They’ve proven useful, but that doesn’t change the fact they’re a pack of brutes with almost no bottom line. All the more reason for us to keep them under control."

"Would they agree?" Ellias asked, a faintly amused glint in his eyes.

Salvo sneered. "They won’t have a choice."