CHAPTER 1473: THE QUIET GAME II

At the Grand Bellevue Hotel, Alinna stood by the window, gazing over Herriond, the legendary City of Kings, the proud home of the illustrious Lucient family.

Unlike Wellington’s old-world charm, Herriond embraced modernity, yet wove its architecture seamlessly with the natural world. Parks and greenery nestled between sleek towers, and every corner whispered of the Lucients’ legacy.

Bluebell flower pots bloomed in every corner of the city, adorning gardens and balconies, lining sidewalks and avenues, and even brightening the gardens of the Bellevue Hotel.

Their purple and blue blossoms echoed the colors forever bound to the Lucient family’s legacy. The hues appeared scattered across Herriond, woven into its architecture and design; it was impossible not to notice them.

Even within this very hotel, reminders were artfully placed. Some walls carried soft shades of blue, while in the VIP lounge, decorated primarily in white and gray, a pair of deep violet chairs faced one another, separated by an exquisite marble round table, the arrangement elegant yet unmistakably symbolic of the royal twins.

"Each detail was deliberate, quiet in its elegance, yet enough to keep the Lucient family alive in the mind of every guest.

In time, it became a tradition: on special days, people would adorn themselves with purple and blue, whether a jacket, a shirt, or something as simple as a ribbon, as a subtle gesture of honor to the Lucient family."

Today was no exception, to celebrate the opening of Harland’s National Art Gallery’s first exhibition, every member of the hotel staff wore a bluebell brooch pinned neatly to their chest. No law compelled it, no command came from the palace. It was, instead, a simple yet powerful act of devotion from the people themselves.

Alinna’s suite mirrored the same palette that seemed to permeate the entire city: heavy curtains of deep violet, white cushions stitched with fine blue embroidery, and a pot of bluebells placed neatly on her coffee table, their blossoms almost glaring at her.

Every corner of the room reminded her of the grand Princess Lorient, and the sight pressed uneasily against her chest. Jealousy stirred within her, bitter and uninvited, but her pride didn’t allow her to show even the smallest crack in her composure.

She dared not ask the staff to alter the décor, nor even to remove the conspicuous bluebell pot in the center of the room.

In Herriond, the slightest hint of disdain toward the Lucient family could draw disapproving frowns, and for her who dared to challenge Princess Lorient’s achievement, the whispers that followed would be far worse."

Salvo De Rova and Alexander Behrenn had already warned her to be careful with her words and actions. Here, unlike anywhere else, she would not be welcomed with warm smiles but met with watchful eyes, and those eyes would watch every step, every gesture, every breath she made.

Alinna had always believed she was loved by many, especially in Dolza, but Herriond showed her how shallow that affection truly was in comparison.

The realization stung. A wave of jealousy rose within her, sharp and unbidden, but she forced it down. Straightening her back, she walked toward the balcony, then cast her eyes to the beautiful city before her, lifted her gaze to the blue sky.

There was a glistening light in the sky, pulsing faintly with energy. To ordinary eyes, it was nothing, but to the gifted, like her, a thin, glass-like veil stretched across the country.

The barrier grew denser, sharper, and immeasurably stronger as it neared Herriond, naturally, for this was where the King resided.

They called it the ’King’s Shield’, a protective barrier personally cast by the King himself to protect his kingdom, but most of all, his people. Many claimed it was the most powerful shield in the world.

Alinna had once dismissed that as mere exaggeration. After all, had it not been shattered by Nazareth, the Black Dragon? But standing here now, she realized how foolish she had been, and how terrifyingly powerful Nazareth truly was.

What if such a creature were to appear again? Could she, like Princess Lorient, face it head-on gallantly? The thought alone sent a shiver down her spine. No. She shook her head, forcing the nonsense notion away.

________________________________________

The silver sedan slid to a stop beneath the Bellevue Hotel’s canopy. A pause, then the rear door opened. The first sound, sharp, measured, came from the heels of her boots striking the marble.

She stepped out slowly, her long, straight dark hair spilling over her shoulders, catching just enough light to gleam against the muted frames of her simple sunglasses.

Her clothes were casual, nothing designer, no logos, no deliberate excessive display, yet there was something about the way she wore them. The way she carries herself with confidence and ease, like she didn’t need anyone’s acknowledgement.

She smiled calmly at the valet staff, then tossed the card key to him. "Take care of my car, okay."

The Valet boy blushed for some reason, but still he answered courteously, "Yes, miss!"

Lory stepped into the lobby, slipping off her sunglasses as her gaze swept across the room. Without lingering, she headed to the lounge, where she settled into a seat and ordered a lemon tea from a passing servant.

While waiting, her eyes caught on several figures in luxurious white uniforms moving through the lounge with measured precision. Their quick, assessing glances, their controlled pace, Paladins, without a doubt. And strong ones too.

So they really did bring the elite. Once he confirmed Jay and his friends were safe, he could conclude the plan had succeeded.

But then her eyes caught on something wholly unexpected—a tall man with long blond hair, dressed in a white turtleneck and a light grey coat, passing by.

Who would have thought she would spot Salvo De Rova just five minute after she entered the Bellevue Hotel? What a stroke of luck

Lory’s lips curved faintly as she took a slow sip of her tea. She pulled out her phone, pretending to scroll idly, but her fingers were already moving in the group chat.

Lory: Guess who I just ran into.

The reply came quick.

Fargo: Hey, I thought you were out on a stakeout. Who’re you with?

Lory: Nah, it’s nothing big. I’m alone.

Fredhardt: Alone?! Why the hell are you alone?

Lory rolled her eyes. Still nagging me even from afar.

Lory: Relax. This is our turf. What’s there to be afraid of?

Lucas: You should’ve taken someone with you. It was fine before when Girsha was around, but things are different now.

Lory: Okay, do you want to hear who I saw or not?

Lucas: Who?

Lory: Salvo De Rova.

Her grin widened as she flicked a glance at him, now heading toward the bar.

Fredhardt: What?! Where is he?

Lory: Bellevue Hotel. At the bar. And... he’s not alone.

Lory tilted her phone, pretending to take a selfie, but in truth, she snapped a clean shot of Salvo with the sultry woman now leaning on the bar table. After that, she dropped the picture into the chat.

Lory: Fargy, I think that girl is your type.

Fredhardt: Everything with a bosom is his type.

Fargo: Don’t be jealous.

Fredhardt: Jealous? Of a pig like you?

Fargo: Sounds like denial to me.

Lory: See, this is why everyone keeps spreading weird rumors about you two.

Lucas: And do you know how many times I’ve had to explain you’re not actually together? I’m done defending you both.

That shut them up immediately. Reading the message and chuckling, then a moment later, Fredhardt’s message popped up again.

Fredhardt: By the way, she looks familiar. Let me check first.

Lory sipped her tea while leaning on her chair when Fredhardt’s message appeared.

Fredhardt: It’s Lucia Viora, the constellation members.

Lory’s eyes sparkled with interest as she shifted her gaze to the stunning woman seated beside Salvo De Rova. The woman wasn’t dressed provocatively, yet her presence radiated a sultry allure that effortlessly drew men’s attention.

Lory wondered how many Constellation members had come that night. Surely it wasn’t just Lucia. What struck her as odd was the absence of Sean Lockwood.

As Salvo De Rova’s brother, she had expected him to appear. Perhaps they were still keeping their relationship hidden and chose not to be seen together at such a public event, or maybe Sean had been sent away on more pressing matters.

Not long after Lucia left the bar, Salvo drained the last of his drink and rose, preparing to head out. Seizing her chance, Lory shot up from her chair. She raised her phone to her ear, feigning a conversation, then deliberately bumped into him.

"Oh! I’m so sorry—oh my god, I didn’t mean to—" she babbled, masking her intention with anxious fluster.

Salvo De Rova narrowed his eyes, irritation flashing briefly across his expression. But just as quickly, it softened into a courteous smile. "It’s fine."

Lory widened her eyes in mock surprise. "Oh my god—you’re Salvo De Rova, aren’t you? The Saintess’s Knight, right? Can I take a picture with you?"

"Sorry, I’m busy." Salvo lifted his hand to wave her off.

But Lory clasped it in both of hers, looking up with a pleading, almost coy smile. "Please... just once? pretty pleasee~"

"Sorry. I should go now." Salvo gently pried her hands away and stepped back.

One of the paladins, having noticed the exchange, immediately moved between them. "Please, miss. This isn’t the time for that."

A pair of hotel staff hurried over as well, urging Lory not to trouble the guest. With a sheepish smile, Lory raised her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright—I’m sorry."

Since she complied without protest, they didn’t press the matter further. As the group departed, Lory’s gaze lingered on Salvo De Rova as he entered the elevator. For just a moment, their eyes met.

Lory smiled and gave him a small wave. Meanwhile, Salvo’s expression, however, remained cold and stoic. Lory rubbed her fingers that had just touched Salvo De Rova’s hands.

She deliberately touched his hands to measure his power, and as expected, his power was very strong, but it didn’t feel like a gifted power; it was different. Then again, their power might have come from Zalchana, so how could it be the same?

Lory strolled through the lobby, pulling out her phone to fire off a message to Lucas.

Lory: That man was ice cold. I think he’s on the same level as my husband.

Fargo: ...Why do you say that?

Lory: I tried to cast an aura tracker on him, but it bounced back.

Unlike an ordinary tracker, the Aura Tracker was far more specific—it didn’t just mark a target, it could pinpoint their exact location even inside a sealed building.

The catch? It required skin-to-skin contact, and the target had to at least subconsciously accept it. Like a honey trap, just a spark of attraction was enough to open the door for the spell. Unfortunately, Salvo’s heart didn’t stir at all, or perhaps she’s not his type.

Fredhardt: Wait. You touched his hand?

Lucas: That’s too reckless, Lory.

Fargo: Girl, you better get out of there before he figures it out something!

Lory: Relax, I’m already leaving.

She retrieved her car key from the valet, slipped behind the wheel, but before she hit the gas pedal, she typed one last message.

Lory: I was just curious what kind of man Salvo De Rova really is.

She hung her phone on the dashboard and drove away.

For a while, no one replied; everyone had gone quiet in the group chat, and she thought everyone had left. Then, all of a sudden, a crisp notification pinged.

Zhao Li Xin: So... my wife is being all touchy-touchy with another man, huh?

Lory’s expression froze, her face darkening in an instant. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel, teeth grinding in fury, cursing whoever invited her husband into this group chat?!

Somewhere else, Fredhardt let out a smirk, then calmly slid his phone back into the inner pocket of his suit. After that, he calmly showed a sly grin at Fargo and Lucas.