Chapter 101

Chapter 101

"Still saying you're not nervous? Your hands are freezing," Emily leaned over. "Bea, eat something to fill your stomach. This competition will take most of the day—you can't go without food!"

"Our Bea is so talented, she'll definitely win a big prize!"

After breakfast, the bus arranged by the organizing committee had already arrived downstairs at the hotel.

The three of them gathered their things and went downstairs to board the vehicle.

The bus was already filled with quite a few competitors, mostly renowned designers from around the world, sitting in small groups and conversing quietly in different languages, with occasional bursts of laughter.

Most of them had been in the industry for years and already knew each other.

The circle was just that small—everyone was familiar with one another.

Only Beatrice and her two companions sat by the window, completely out of place in the surrounding atmosphere.

Beatrice was a complete newcomer with no international competition awards and no famous brand endorsements. Not a single designer present knew who she was.

She didn't care. She closed her eyes, mentally reviewing her design concept and details once more, paying no attention to the stares around her.

But even though she didn't want trouble, trouble came looking for her anyway.

Two blond men sitting diagonally behind them were local Eldorian designers with some reputation in the industry. They'd been stealing glances at Beatrice for a while.

Finally unable to contain themselves, they began conversing in French in low voices, just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"Hey, see that Novarian woman by the window? She's the only Novarian competitor in this competition, right?"

"That's her. I thought she'd be someone impressive, but she turns out to be a complete nobody. I really don't know how the organizing committee let her into the finals."

"Who knows? Look how pretty she is—maybe she didn't get in through her designs at all. She's probably just a pretty face!"

"Yeah, maybe she has some sugar daddy backing her. Otherwise, how could someone like her possibly get a ticket to the finals?"

"Exactly. With looks like that, why would she need to work hard on designs? Just crook her finger and plenty of people would hand her resources."

"It's ridiculous though. This kind of trophy mistress actually dares to enter a competition at this level. Isn't she afraid of embarrassing herself on stage and disgracing all Novarians?"

Their words grew increasingly vicious. Several nearby designers looked over, their eyes full of undisguised mockery, and some even chimed in quietly, pointing at Beatrice.

Though Emily couldn't understand everything, what she did catch was enough to infuriate her.

She shot to her feet, ready to storm over and confront the two men.

But just as she stood up, Beatrice grabbed her wrist.

Beatrice slowly opened her eyes and gently shook her head. "Emily, sit down. Don't be impulsive."

"Bea! They're saying such things about you! How can you stand it?" Emily trembled with anger. "They're just jealous that you're beautiful and talented. They're being sour!"

"Their mouths are their own—they can say whatever they want." Beatrice pulled her back down, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her eyes were full of determination. "Arguing with them now serves no purpose and only lowers me to their level."

"If I lose in the end, then what they said was right—I truly don't deserve to be here."

"But if I win, all their mockery will become the loudest slap, hitting them right in the face."

Emily looked at her calm expression and instantly deflated, gazing at her with admiration. "Bea, your mindset is incredible! If it were me, I'd have gone over and torn their mouths apart!"

"No need." Beatrice smiled and said nothing more.

John, sitting beside her, turned to look at Beatrice.

The morning sunlight fell on her face, outlining her gentle yet resolute profile.

When she'd spoken those words just now, Beatrice's eyes had shone remarkably bright.

Looking at her, his heartbeat inexplicably quickened.

The bus soon arrived at the competition venue.

The vehicle stopped, and competitors filed off, forming a long queue at the entrance, waiting to have their identities verified before entering.

Beatrice also got off with John and Emily, walked to the back of the line, and pulled out her competition credentials, preparing to queue up.

Just then, a white man wearing an organizing committee staff badge hurried up to Beatrice, bowed slightly, and said, "Ms. Sinclair, hello. Please come with me. You can enter directly without waiting in this line."

Beatrice froze instantly, stopping in her tracks, looking at him with complete confusion. "Excuse me, who are you?"

"I'm a staff member of the competition organizing committee. You can call me David." The man wore a standard smile, though a hint of barely perceptible disdain flashed quickly through his eyes, well concealed.

"Ms. Sinclair, you don't need to queue for verification. I'll take you through the VIP entrance—you can go straight in."

Beatrice's brow furrowed immediately, her confusion deepening. "Why? Aren't all competitors supposed to queue for identity verification? Why should I receive special treatment?"

She knew very well that she was just an ordinary competitor with no special status. There was no reason for the organizing committee to give her such privileges.

David's smile remained unchanged, though his tone carried an indescribable undertone. "Ms. Sinclair, you just need to follow me. This was specifically instructed from above. You needn't ask about anything else."

As soon as he said this, all the competitors waiting in line looked over.

The two Eldorian male designers who'd mocked Beatrice on the bus happened to be nearby.

Hearing this, they immediately walked over, their faces full of mockery, addressing Beatrice with biting sarcasm.

"Well, well, I was just saying—how could a complete nobody make it to the finals? Turns out she really does rely on men!"

"Exactly. Even entering the venue requires the VIP entrance and special treatment. Her sugar daddy must be quite capable!"

"But if she's already relying on men, why even participate in the competition? Wouldn't it be better to just be a trophy mistress? Why come here to steal other people's opportunities? Isn't that shameful?"

"We prepared for this competition for years, working day and night revising our designs. And she just coasts in on her looks, easily getting special privileges. What fairness is left in this competition?"

Their voices grew louder and louder. Surrounding competitors and media reporters all gathered around, pointing at Beatrice, their eyes full of contempt as cameras turned toward her.

Emily's face went white with rage. "You're talking nonsense! Bea made it to the finals entirely on her own merit! You have no talent yourselves, so all you can do is stand here being jealous of others!"