Chapter 4

Someone burst out laughing. “Her? She probably never leaves her hometown!”

Even Jackson smirked slightly, shaking his head.

Dra's eyes narrowed with satisfaction. “My mistake! I should have asked which market has the cheapest vegetables or which toilet cleaner works best!”

More laughter erupted. She turned away smugly, beginning another story.

I slowly clenched my fists. Something inside me burned. Must be the alcohol, I thought. Why else would such juvenile taunts bother me?

“I’ve been there,” my voice cut through the noise, calm but firm.

The laughter died instantly. Sara turned, momentarily startled, before sneering, “What?”

“I’ve been to Azora.”

Surprise flickered across her face before she recovered, her voice dripping with contempt. “No need to pretend. If you haven’t been, just admit it! Lying only makes you look pathetic.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Oh really?” She crossed her arms, chin lifted. “Then tell us, where exactly? The coastal cities? The tourist spots?”

I met her gaze steadily. “The Nyara Republic.”

The room went silent.

“…Nyara?” someone echoed uncertainly. “She must be drunk,” another laughed nervously, “making up stories!”

The fire inside me blazed hotter. I wasn’t alone there—there were countless others. Journalists, peacekeepers, aid workers… Were we all not “normal people”?

I swept my gaze across the table, each word deliberate: “Not only have I been there, I lived there for a year. I’ve witnessed resource wars, worked in epidemic treatment centers, and distributed aid with UN workers. I took a bullet.”

Stunned silence fell. They stared at me, dumbfounded.

I swirled my wine, fixing my gaze on Sara, my voice turning glacial: “And one more thing. There are no yellowfin tuna in the Celestial Sea—wrong climate entirely. The ancient paths don’t start in Westland; they run through the Northern Kingdom. And the sacred rocks of the Southern Isles? Closed to climbers since 2019.”

My lips curled into a slight smile. “Sara, lying is risky. It’s so easy to get caught.”

Her face drained of color.

Confused glances darted around the table. Sara leapt to her feet, her voice rising shrilly: “She’s just some orphan nobody—how could she have been to such places? She’s the liar!”

I rested my chin on my hand, smiling faintly. “Then show us your photos. You’ve been everywhere; surely you took pictures?”

Her composure crumbled. “I… I…”

“Don’t tell me you have none?”

She turned to Jackson, nearly crying. “Jackson! What’s wrong with your fiancée?! This was supposed to be my welcome party! How can you let her attack me like this? Fine! If I’m so unwelcome, I’ll leave!”

She made a show of wiping her eyes before storming out.

Chaos erupted. Others urged Jackson, “Go after her! It’s late—what if something happens?”