Chapter 105

Chapter 105

Watching Isabella like this, Beatrice couldn't help but chuckle softly and spoke reassuringly, "Everyone gets a bit nervous. Just do your best and don't worry too much about the results."

"Wow, you have such a great mindset!" Isabella's eyes lit up, looking at her admiringly. "No wonder you could stand up to those people so boldly earlier. Truly impressive people really do have such stable attitudes!"

The queue slowly moved forward. Within a few minutes, it was Beatrice's turn.

She walked up to the submission desk and handed over her competition credentials, sealed design drafts, and the USB drive containing her work.

The staff member took them and began verifying her identity information one by one, checking whether the design files and competition materials were complete.

Beatrice stood aside, waiting quietly, trying to calm her emotions and suppress all those chaotic thoughts about Damien swirling in her mind.

Just then, Isabella behind her gently tugged at her sleeve, her voice full of barely contained excitement. She leaned close to Beatrice's ear and whispered breathlessly, "Beatrice! Look! Third row in the audience section, toward the middle! Look quickly!"

Puzzled, Beatrice instinctively raised her head and looked in the direction Isabella was pointing.

The lighting in the audience section wasn't particularly bright, yet a beam of natural light fell precisely on that man.

He wore a simple black shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing smooth, clean-lined wrists. His features were noble and cold, his jawline sharp as if carefully sculpted.

And those smoke-blue eyes she had just been recalling countless times in her mind were now, at this very moment, looking directly at her through the bustling crowd.

The instant their eyes met, Beatrice felt her breath catch.

It was Damien.

Why was he here?

This thought flashed through her mind for only a moment before she almost instinctively lowered her head, abruptly avoiding his gaze.

Her heart felt like it had been struck by something, pounding uncontrollably.

Isabella beside her had no intention of letting her off. She leaned in relentlessly, her voice full of pride, "Did you see him? Isn't he incredibly handsome? I told you, you couldn't find a better-looking man in all of Luminous City!"

Beatrice couldn't escape as Isabella shook her arm. She could only helplessly raise her head, nod lightly, and respond quietly, "Yes, very handsome."

Yet inwardly she couldn't help thinking that probably no one would find Damien anything but handsome.

That face blended Novaria's gentle refinement with Eldoria's deep intensity. Normally carrying an aloof coldness that kept others at a distance, yet when he took action, he possessed an extreme wildness—two completely different qualities perfectly merged in him, extraordinarily captivating.

She turned her head and discreetly observed Isabella, who wore an infatuated expression, silently pondering.

Seeing how familiar she seemed, she must be quite close with Damien. Otherwise, she wouldn't know his preferences so clearly or even know he'd be at the venue.

An indescribable emotion stirred inexplicably in her heart, one she herself didn't even notice.

As if possessed, she asked, "How did you meet this person you like?"

The moment this question left her lips, Isabella instantly lit up like someone had flipped a switch. Her eyes sparkled like stars in the night, and she became completely animated, "We grew up together!"

"His father and my father have been old friends for many years, and our families live close by. I've known him since I can remember!"

Speaking of this, she looked at Beatrice expectantly, blinking her eyes, "By the way, Beatrice, would you say this counts as childhood sweethearts?"

Beatrice looked at the longing in her eyes. That indescribable feeling in her own heart grew stronger. She nodded lightly, her voice dropping a few notches, "Yes, childhood sweethearts."

The moment she said this, Isabella instantly deflated.

She let out a heavy sigh, wilting against the edge of the submission desk, saying listlessly, "Being childhood sweethearts doesn't help. It's all one-sided on my part—he doesn't like me at all."

"I've been chasing him all these years since childhood, and he's barely looked at me properly. He's always so cold, keeping everyone at arm's length."

As she spoke, she cupped her hands around her face, blinked her green eyes at Beatrice, and asked with an aggrieved expression, "Tell me honestly, am I not pretty?"

"So many people pursue me, so why is he completely unmoved?"

Beatrice looked at her strikingly beautiful features and nodded seriously, her tone sincere, "You're very beautiful, very radiant and charming."

This wasn't mere courtesy. Isabella was indeed extremely beautiful, like a passionately blooming red rose—bright and flamboyant, the type most men would be attracted to.

But after hearing this, Isabella let out another heavy sigh, looking utterly defeated, "Being pretty doesn't help if he doesn't like me."

"All these years, I've never seen him take interest in any girl. Forget taking interest—he finds it annoying to even exchange a few extra words with women."

Suddenly, she leaned closer, lowered her voice, and whispered mysteriously to Beatrice, "I'll tell you, sometimes I even suspect he doesn't like women at all. Maybe he likes men instead!"

The moment these words fell, Beatrice, who had just received her competition credentials back from the staff member, was choked and began coughing violently.

"Oh no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Isabella was startled and quickly patted her back apologetically. "Was what I said too shocking?"

"But I really think so! Think about it—he's already twenty-eight, and there's not a single woman close to him. If he doesn't dislike women, what else could it be?"

Beatrice finally stopped coughing. She took the bottle of water Isabella handed her, drank a sip to catch her breath, and looked at Isabella's earnest expression, momentarily at a loss for words.

Just then, the staff member addressed her, "Ms. Sinclair, your documents have been verified. You may proceed to the contestants' waiting area to prepare."

Beatrice quickly gathered her scattered thoughts, nodded to the staff member, then turned to Isabella with a polite smile, "I'm heading to the waiting area now. Good luck with your competition."

"You too, Beatrice!" Isabella waved enthusiastically, beaming. "I hope you win a big prize! Let's chat properly after the competition ends!"

Beatrice nodded and turned toward the waiting area. After taking two steps, she couldn't resist glancing once more toward the audience section.

That man still sat there, his gaze remaining on her. Across the distant crowd, those smoke-blue eyes seemed as clear as if they were right before her.

Her heartbeat quickened again. She quickly looked away and hurried into the waiting area, though the blush on her ears lingered for a long time.