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.