Es’s eyes softened at Mila’s unwavering confidence. "I understand your loyalty," she said gently. "It’s hard to reconcile the person you admire with the darker aspects of their past."
Mila’s gaze remained steady, her voice filled with conviction. "I know what I’ve seen and what I’ve experienced. I refuse to let the rumors change my view of her. Es Vallahle is soone who has inspired many, including . She couldn’t possibly be a criminal."
Es nodded, touched by Mila’s fierce defense. "It’s admirable that you hold on to your beliefs with such conviction. Sotis it’s difficult to accept the full truth, especially when it conflicts with the person we admire."
Mila’s expression softened, but her resolve remained strong. "Thank you for understanding, ma’am. I just believe in the good that she has done and the impact she has had on my life."
Es’s smile faded as she listened intently to Mila. "Is that so?" she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "Then why did you join the Aron group instead of Valhalla? Shouldn’t you be working for the group that birthed your inspiration? Why did you co here?"
Mila paused for a mont, the weight of the question hanging in the air. Her eyes hardened slightly as she replied, her tone firm but not defensive. "Miss Rose, are you implying that I’m spying?"
Es’s lips curled into a subtle smile. "When did I say that? I’m rely asking. You know, curiosity." Her tone was playful, but there was a seriousness behind her words.
Mila smiled faintly, though the edge of sadness touched her expression. "It’s true, she is my inspiration. But Es Vallahle also taught sothing invaluable—that no matter what happens, never lose yourself. Never let anyone strip away your self-confidence or self-respect."
She took a deep breath, her voice carrying the weight of her experience. "I went to the Valhalla group for an interview, full of hope. But the mont I arrived, they insulted —belittled for being an orphan, as if that made less deserving. They offered a low-level position, beneath my qualifications, simply because they wanted to control , to keep beneath them."
Mila’s tone turned resolute, her eyes eting Es’s with unwavering strength. "I knew then that they wanted to bend , to make lose my dignity. And from everything Es Vallahle stood for, I understood one thing clearly—never let anyone play with your self-respect. So, I rejected their offer."
She smiled again, but this ti it was filled with a quiet defiance. "They tried to make lose who I am, but I refused. That’s why I chose Aron. Not because I wanted to turn my back on my inspiration, but because I chose to protect what she taught ."
Es studied her for a mont, her eyes softening. "It seems you learned more from her than many ever do."
Mila’s smile grew more genuine. "I learned to stand tall, no matter where I go."
Es’s smile wavered for a brief mont as she stared at Mila, her mind drifting elsewhere. She could not rember, no matter how hard she tried.
The mories—those that should have been hers, monts that people like Mila revered—were just faint whispers in her mind, elusive and distant. Es Vallahle, the na she carried, the legacy attached to it, felt like a foreign concept. People spoke of her like a legend, soone larger than life. Yet, Es herself couldn’t recall if she had ever lived up to that.
Her fingers absently traced the edge of the table as she tried to grasp sothing—anything—that would anchor her to this identity people saw in her. But the harder she tried, the more elusive the connection beca, slipping through her grasp like water.
She blinked, pulling herself back into the present, focusing on her next plan.
The day of the party arrived, and the tension in the air was palpable as Es and Ray made their way toward the venue. The hall, unlike the usual luxurious banquet setups, was designed like a machine room—tallic walls, low humming sounds of gears turning, and flickering lights that added an eerie glow to the place. The scent of oil and tal filled the air, contrasting with the elegance of the guests.
As soon as Es and Ray entered, all eyes turned toward them. A murmur rippled through the crowd like a wave, and the guests—mostly mbers of the Dianna uneducated friend group—began whispering, exchanging uneasy glances.
The commotion wasn’t just because of Es’s presence. It was Ray, tall and imposing, his sharp eyes surveying the room, making it clear that he was not soone to be trifled with. His hand rested lightly on the small of Es’s back, a subtle but protective gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. Es’s black eyes glead under the dim lights as she scanned the room, her lips curving into a smile that was both poised and unreadable.
In the corner of the room, Diana stood with a drink in her hand, her eyes narrowing as soon as she saw Es and Ray step into the hall. The carefully curated expression of calmness on her face cracked for a brief mont, revealing the resentnt bubbling underneath. She quickly composed herself, but the coldness in her gaze lingered as she watched them make their way through the crowd.
Es could feel the weight of the stares, the hushed voices, but she moved gracefully, seemingly unfazed by the attention. Ray’s presence beside her only heightened the tension, making it clear that they weren’t here just to socialize—they were here for sothing more.
As they reached the center of the room, Es whispered to Ray, "It feels like a battlefield, doesn’t it?"
Ray gave a low chuckle, leaning in slightly, "Always is, with people like these."
Diana, noticing their proximity, approached them with a tight-lipped smile, her voice sugary but laced with underlying bitterness. "Ah, Miss Rose. What an entrance. I didn’t expect to see both of you together. Quite the surprise."
Es turned to her with a raised brow, her smile still intact. "Ah, Miss Vallahle, you truly have a knack for humor. If my beloved isn’t by my side, who else would I choose to be with?." She glanced around the room before her gaze returned to Diana. "
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