Raised From The Wild-Chapter 366: Engagement Party: The Trigger

Jorge Black averted his gaze as the host called his name. With the aura of a disciplined militia, he made his way up the few steps to the stage and accepted the microphone from the host. As he began to speak, his words were filled with heartfelt emotion as he shared a touching tribute to his daughter. His demeanor revealed that he doted on his daughter.

Jorge Black addressed the audience. Princess Amaya couldn’t shake the feeling that the defense minister’s gaze was fixed solely on her as he spoke to the crowd.

’Is he singling me out for a specific reason? Is it possible that it’s because I managed to defeat his daughter?’ Amaya pondered.

"Princess!" Leon called out to Princess Amaya in a gentle tone. He couldn’t help but notice the defense minister’s unfriendly look at her. Despite this, the princess appeared mesmerized by the minister and couldn’t seem to look away.

The sound of Leon’s voice broke Amaya’s trance. Her face lit up with a soft, serene smile as she redirected her focus to the newly engaged couple. The pair stood close, their hands intertwined. The woman was completely absorbed in her own joyful moment while the man remained stoic, showing no signs of emotion.

"You seemed quite unsettled, Your Highness," Prince Raquim whispered as he leaned toward her.

"Yeah," Princess Amaya whispered, "I have a premonition that something bad is about to happen." The last time she had a similar foreboding feeling was during the ’incident’ two years ago.

"Why would you say that, Amaya?" Raquim heard her voice and swiftly turned around, a concerned expression on his face, as he asked her.

"It is just a feeling." Princess Amaya tried to downplay her emotions.

"Enjoy the banquet, everyone!" The defense minister concluded his speech. After presenting the gift to his daughter, kissing her on both cheeks, and patting Charles Gray on the shoulder, he left with his entourage, saying he was very busy.

As the waiters glided across the room, balancing trays of tantalizing dishes, Grace saw her opportunity to make her move. She smoothly made her way to the table where the Princess of Lireya, the Crown Prince of Albanya, and the guard who had caught her eye were seated. Grace strategically positioned herself near the guard and discreetly captured photographs of Princess Amaya and Prince Raquim.

Grace, holding a high-powered mini-camera, asked Princess Amaya, "How do you find the engagement party, Princess?"

Princess Amaya responded with a curt ’Very good!’

Grace maintained her position, held the camera steady, and focused on Princess Amaya, anticipating further remarks. The forced smile on her face had begun to wane, yet the Princess remained silent after uttering just two words.

"Isn’t Miss Adelle just stunning?" she inquired, attempting to engage the princess in conversation.

"Yes. She is indeed pretty." Amaya replied.

Grace: "..."

’Can’t she say more words? Aren’t princesses supposed to be very eloquent and confident? Was is she shy, or does she still feel inferior? After all, she grew up in the jungle. That must be it.’ Grace had these thoughts running in her head.

Grace continued to draw the princess into conversation, prompting her to share her thoughts. "Do you believe they are a perfect match, destined to be together?"

"If you say so," Princess Amaya replied nonchalantly.

Grace: "..."

The journalist, increasingly exasperated, tried to shift her attention to the guard sitting next to the princess.

"How about you, Sir? What can you say about the party?" Grace asked in a sweet voice.

"Nothing much. Too ordinary." Leon answered after a few seconds of silence.

"Why did you say that?" Grace asked while she tried to give him her best smile.

"Aren’t all engagement parties done like this? The ladies just showcased their dresses and jewelry."

Grace could not refute him. What he said was the truth, after all.

The reporter introduced herself with a warm smile and outstretched hand, taking the initiative to break the ice with the guard. "My name is Grace Wilson. May I know yours?"

Leon simply stared at the extended hand. Grace looked awkward and withdrew her hand, which stayed mid-air for some time.

Leon’s side had an empty seat, and Grace reluctantly sat on it. Vaquez didn’t stay at the dining table, but he stood close by, not too distant from the princess, to watch the vicinity.

"Are you truly one of the guards? Why are the other guards positioned over there while you are seated beside the princess?" Grace inquired, her curiosity piqued. From her perspective, the man did not resemble a guard but rather the princess’s companion. However, the presence of the Prince of Albanya suggested that he should be the one accompanying the princess.

Leon fixed his gaze on her with such cold intensity that Grace felt a sudden chill run down her spine. Thin beads of sweat appeared on her forehead, indicating she was scared.

’What a scary man,’ she thought to herself.

Leon continued to glare at her. She felt so uncomfortable that she had no choice but to excuse herself.

When she passed by, Leon’s pupils constricted as a faint but unmistakable ticking sound reached his ears. He glanced at his watch and saw the interface was emitting a red signal.

He pushed the reporter, who staggered more than a meter away, for Leon gave all his strength. At the same time, he grasped Amaya’s wrist and dragged her away.

"The woman has a bomb inside her bag," Leon informed the startled crown prince of Albanya.

Without asking any questions, Prince Raquim hastily left his seat and followed the direction where Leon was taking Princess Amaya.

The people were busy enjoying their dinner, and they did not notice the commotion in the right wing of the banquet hall.

Meanwhile, Grace fell on the floor after she was pushed back and failed to grasp something to keep her balance. She tried supporting herself and getting up when she felt a steady vibration from inside her bag.

Grace unzipped the bag and looked inside. She found the watch that she had taken from the restroom, and the numbers were glowing. Her heart skipped a beat as the faint but unmistakable ticking reached her ears. She was a reporter, and they underwent training, so she knew what that ticking meant. The sound, almost imperceptible at first, grew louder with each passing second, echoing the drumming in her chest with a chilling rhythm. Her skin prickled with a cold sweat, and her breath caught in her throat.

Time seemed to freeze. The ticking stretched out into eternity. She was still sitting on the floor, oblivious to the stares of the people around her. Every instinct screamed at her to throw the bag, move, and flee, but for a brief, paralyzing instant, she sat frozen, gripped by the terrifying realization of what that sound meant.