Alia blinked.
"Then why are they here?"
Lara didn’t answer imdiately.
Instead, she walked toward the window overlooking the southern sector of the island where the Kromwel Mausoleum stood beneath the glaring sunlight.
From afar, the restored structure looked magnificent—ancient black stone pillars rising like silent guardians against the jagged cliffs, while enormous banners bearing the crest of House Kromwel billowed violently beneath the wind.
Sunlight struck the dark stone in sharp angles, giving the mausoleum an almost divine presence, as though an ancient kingdom had montarily resurfaced from the grave.
Philip Hardy truly had a talent for spectacle.
Every detail had been carefully orchestrated to inspire awe—the towering braziers, the ceremonial pathways, even the positioning of the guards around the ruins. He didn’t rely restore history.
He turned it into theater.
Yet despite the beauty of it, a strange unease settled deep inside her chest.
Sothing felt wrong today.
The air itself felt heavier.
Too still.
As though the island itself was holding its breath.
Waiting.
Watching.
Watching for sothing that would co and desecrate the sacred silence of the dead.
A cold sensation crawled down Lara’s spine.
Then—
"Ladies, it’s ti."
A gentle, refined voice ca from the doorway.
Both won turned.
A graceful woman in her middle age stepped inside, elegant despite the simplicity of her appearance. Ti had touched her beauty lightly, leaving behind only sophistication and quiet authority.
Dr. Grace Varona.
One of the country’s most respected experts in ancient history and archaeology. The History Commission itself had sent her to oversee the cataloging and preservation of every artifact uncovered on Isla Calma.
Like Lara and Alia, she wore clothing inspired by ancient Calman fashion, though hers ca in darker royal hues that gave her an almost noble appearance.
"Rember," Dr. Grace said as she approached them, "today’s guests are not ordinary sponsors. Be careful with your words."
Alia imdiately straightened herself.
Lara rely nodded.
Not long after, the three won stood waiting at the grand entrance of the mausoleum.
The massive stone doors lood behind them, carved with faded symbols from a forgotten era.
Ard soldiers had already positioned themselves around the area while excavation staff lined the pathway leading toward the monunt.
Then the convoy arrived.
Six military-grade jeeps rolled across the dirt road one after another, followed closely by Isla security escorts on motorcycles.
Among them was Liam.
Dust rose into the air as the vehicles ca to a halt.
Doors opened almost simultaneously.
Security personnel descended first, followed by the distinguished guests and their entourage.
Lara’s eyes calmly swept across the approaching group—
Until her gaze abruptly froze.
Far among the crowd... her eyes locked onto the man walking at the center.
He had removed his coat and was now dressed only in a spotless white long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves slightly rolled to reveal strong forearms tanned by years beneath the sun.
Tall. Composed. Dangerously commanding.
Even from a distance, Lara could feel his eyes fixed directly on her.
A strange chill passed through her.
She held his gaze for several seconds, searching her mories—
Then recognition struck like lightning.
Her breathing nearly stopped.
She rembered him.
That face. That presence.
He was there twenty years ago.
The Major who led the operation that stord the birthday celebration where General Fuegerro’s first wife and eldest son were slaughtered.
The sa day, the the toddler Lara Norse was kidnapped and vanished like thin air.
Major Anton Trillo.
"That’s Anton Trillo," Dr. Grace quietly said after noticing where Lara and Alia were looking. "The magnate... no, the trillionaire who controlled half the economy of Lanura."
Alia visibly stiffened.
Even now, Anton Trillo’s na carried terrifying weight across the country.
"Keep smiling," Dr. Grace reminded softly, though she herself had already ford a warm professional smile for the arriving guests.
Lara forced her expression to remain calm.
But inwardly, old mories were clawing their way back to the surface.
Her gaze shifted slightly—
And t Artemio Fuegerro’s eyes.
The General had been walking beside Anton Trillo monts ago, but upon seeing Lara, his steps slowed almost imperceptibly.
Their gazes locked but only briefly.
Yet it was enough for Lara to notice the flicker of shock hidden beneath the old man’s hardened military composure.
Then Artemio turned away and resud speaking to the man beside him while Anton Trillo continued staring at Lara with unsettling focus.
Lara slowly shifted her attention toward the second distinguished guest.
Governor Rogel Sanchez.
Alia lowered her voice. "I didn’t expect the Governor himself to co..."
But Lara barely heard her.
Her eyes narrowed coldly.
She rembered him too.
Back then, he had rely been a young navy officer involved in the failed mutiny that shook the nation two decades ago.
And now? Now he stood before the people as a respected governor.
A bitter sneer almost ford on Lara’s lips.
What an irony.
The very n who once plunged the country into chaos now walked beneath the sunlight draped in honor, wealth, and political influence.
n who had commanded ard rebellions and stained an innocent children’s party with blood were now celebrated as patriots and visionaries.
And Anton Trillo...
Back then, he had only been a Major.
A ruthless one.
Fuegerro’s first wife died that day. So did his eldest son.
And amidst the chaos. Lara Norse disappeared. Kidnapped and never returned.
No one had ever publicly spoken about what truly happened.
The newspapers buried it beneath politics.
The military sealed the records.
The survivors remained silent.
Yet the people responsible had not only escaped punishnt...
They rose higher.
Power had washed their sins clean.
Lara’s fingers unconsciously curled at her side.
If it had been her and Alaric back then—
They would have been hunted down like criminals. Executed without rcy for treason and the deaths of innocents.
The governnt would have hunted them across the country without rest. Their corpses would have been displayed as warnings to anyone daring to rebel against those in power.
There would have been no forgiveness. No redemption. No second chances.
That was the difference between the past and the present. Between Alaric’s reign and the curren society.
Justice was served decisively especially when the innocents were caught in the crossfire.
Her gaze slowly lifted toward Anton Trillo once more.
The man continued walking calmly beside Governor Rogel and General Fuegerro, his expression composed, almost indifferent.
Yet beneath that calm exterior, Lara sensed sothing dangerous. Sothing calculating.
His eyes briefly wandered toward the mausoleum behind her.
And for the first ti since seeing him, Lara understood.
This visit was not about investnt.
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