The General's Daughter: The Mission

Chapter 201: She Doesn’t Break

"You fainted earlier—right in front of General Fuegerro."

Asher’s voice cut through the heavy air, low and edged with concern. He stood close to Ares, his gaze fixed on Lara as if searching for cracks beneath her calm.

"What exactly did the two of you talk about?" he pressed. "What could possibly agitate you that much?"

"It’s nothing."

Lara didn’t even look at him. Her answer came too quickly, too lightly—dismissive in a way that made it feel anything but trivial.

"I just... remembered something from the past."

Behind them, Aquilo stiffened.

He had been the first to reach her when she collapsed—had caught her before she hit the ground. And yet somehow, in the chaos, he’d been pushed aside, replaced, as if his presence didn’t matter.

Now he stood just behind Asher, silent but watchful.

"Lara," he said, his tone firm, almost commanding. "Let me take you to the clinic. You could’ve suffered heatstroke."

His jaw tightened.

He shouldn’t have left her alone with General Fuegerro.

Respect for the general ran deep—years of discipline and loyalty ingrained into him. But there were moments, like this, when that respect soured into something bitter.

Because no matter how revered that man was... he had always been cruel to her.

Ever since she was a child.

Aquilo’s gaze darkened.

She had endured things no one should have—things he himself, even now, wasn’t sure he could withstand. Not at that age. Not at any age.

"I’m fine," Lara said gently, as if soothing a child. "It was just a headache. It’s gone now."

Ares didn’t look convinced.

His expression hardened, shadows gathering in his eyes.

"You can all disperse," Lara added, a faint edge creeping into her voice. "I just need some air."

She hated this—being surrounded, fussed over, watched like she might shatter.

"Then I’ll take you back to the mansion," Ares said immediately. "Asher can accompany Grandfather."

His tone left little room for argument.

"Can you walk?" he asked, quieter now—but no less intense.

"Of course I can."

The answer came out sharp, almost defensive.

But the moment Lara pushed herself to her feet, the world tilted.

Her vision blurred. Her body swayed.

And in an instant—

Three hands reached for her.

Ares moved first.

Asher followed.

Aquilo didn’t hesitate.

Ares shot Asher a cold glare—sharp, territorial.

Asher paused, then slowly withdrew his hand, lips pressing into a thin line.

But Aquilo didn’t move.

Not this time.

He had already been pushed aside once. He refused to step back again.

"You two—let go of me."

Lara’s voice cut through them, laced with irritation. Her eyes flashed, cold and unyielding.

They were drawing attention.

And she hated that more than anything.

For a brief moment, no one moved.

Then, under the weight of her stare—

Ares stepped back.

Aquilo followed a second later.

Reluctant. Silent. Unwilling.

But neither could withstand the distance she forced between them.

...

"Heh... funny, isn’t it?"

Layla’s voice drifted lazily through the air, but there was nothing light about it. It carried—just loud enough for others nearby to hear, just soft enough to sound like an afterthought.

"Why come all the way here," she continued, folding her arms as her gaze swept over Lara from head to toe, "if you can’t even handle a little heat?"

Her lips curled—not quite a smile.

"If I didn’t know any better," she added, tilting her head, "I’d think you grew up pampered like a princess. Delicate. The kind who melts the moment things get uncomfortable."

The words were coated in mockery, but underneath it was something sharper—something personal.

Her eyes lingered on Lara longer than necessary.

Measured. Critical. Almost resentful.

A brief silence followed.

Then—

"Wait."

Summer’s voice slipped in, light and curious, though her eyes flickered with something far more calculating.

"Didn’t Larissa graduate from a public school down south?" she said, glancing between them as if piecing together a puzzle. "In the province?"

There was an innocent lilt to her tone.

Layla let out a soft laugh, catching on immediately.

"Oh? That’s right."

Her gaze snapped back to Lara, this time more pointed—more intrusive.

"Wasn’t it supposed to be... scorching there?" she mused. "Way worse than this."

She took a slow step closer.

"So what is it, really?" Layla’s voice dropped, quieter now—but heavier. "Did you suddenly forget where you came from..."

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"...or are you just pretending you don’t belong there anymore?"

The air tightened.

The few guests and workers nearby began to slow, their conversations dipping into whispers.

Summer watched carefully, the corners of her lips barely lifting—enjoying the slow unraveling.

"And here I thought," she added, almost thoughtfully, "that someone from that kind of background would be... tougher."

The word lingered. Not a compliment. A challenge.

Layla’s gaze didn’t leave Lara’s face, searching—waiting—for a crack, a reaction, anything she could latch onto.

Because this wasn’t really about the heat.

It never was.

It was about Lara standing here—composed, composed in a way Layla couldn’t quite stand.

And the fact that no matter how lightly she spoke...

she wanted to see her break.

For a moment, Lara said nothing.

The silence stretched just long enough to make the air feel tight, suffocating. Layla’s smirk held, but there was a flicker—just a flicker—of anticipation in her eyes.

She was waiting.

Then Lara exhaled softly.

"...Are you done?"

Her voice was calm.

It didn’t rise to meet their mockery. It didn’t even acknowledge it properly. And somehow that made it worse.

Layla’s smile stiffened.

Lara finally lifted her gaze. Not rushed. Not defensive. But measured.

Her eyes landed on Layla first—not sharp, not angry, just... unimpressed.

"I was wondering," Lara continued, her tone almost thoughtful, "how long you were going to circle around the same point."

A faint pause.

Then—

"If you have something to say," she added, tilting her head ever so slightly, "you can say it directly. It saves time. You looked down on my background."

Summer’s expression flickered, the playful curiosity in her eyes dimming just a little.

Layla let out a soft scoff. "Don’t twist it. We’re just concerned. You fainted, after all—"

"Concern?"

Lara echoed the word, as if testing how it sounded.

Then she gave a small, humorless smile.

"That’s... generous."

The sarcasm wasn’t loud, but it landed cleanly.

She shifted her weight, steady now, no trace of the earlier weakness left in her posture.

"If heat were really the issue," Lara went on, almost idly, "I would’ve collapsed much earlier."

Her gaze flicked briefly to Summer.

"Or do you think provinces only have mild weather?"

Summer’s lips parted—but no words came out.

Lara didn’t wait.

She stepped forward. Just one step.