Now, it was Alice who was starting to panic. She didn’t speak a word of French and had no idea how long she’d have to stand there feeling like a fool. When Hera and the others approached, they spotted the small banner the man was holding—it had "Andarta Aria and Alice Quinn" written on it, confirming he was assigned to pick up both Alice and their group.


    Alice must have arrived first. The man, though clearly concerned, was speaking in rapid French, seemingly trying to ask Alice what was wrong. But when Hera got close enough to hear what he was actually saying, she nearly burst intoughter.


    He said in French, "Ugh, this woman’s whining like a dog. I just got here and she’s already crying. What if people think I’m harassing her or doing something shady? Shit, just my luck." He muttered it loud enough as if trying to justify himself to the nearby passersby who were beginning to nce in their direction, all while appearing to be gently consoling Alice.


    It’s often said that French people are blunt, with a unique sense of humor. Some might even call them mean, but this directness is part of how they interact. They’re not always the charming, poetic speakers many imagine—though they do have a way with words.


    Still, they rarely sugarcoat things or beat around the bush, just like now. And more often than not, they have a sharp instinct about people. This guy, for instance, was handling the situation brilliantly—and Hera found the whole thing genuinely amusing.


    Hera and the others finally stepped closer, stopping in front of the Frenchman. The moment he lifted his head and met Hera’s clear, striking gaze, he froze—as if his entire future had just shed before his eyes.


    In an instant, his demeanor shifted into that of the ssic charming Frenchman, the kind who wore romance like a second skin.


    "Mon amour..." he murmured, reaching for Hera’s hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, all while maintaining intense eye contact.


    To be fair, the man wasn’t bad-looking at all. He was tall, with tousled, noodle-like curls styled in a way that made him look both carefree and charming. He wore a long brown trench coat with a scarf draped casually around his neck, and underneath, a crisp white shirt tucked into tailored dress pants. His light blue eyes were mesmerizing, and his sharp features certainly fit the definition of handsome.


    But Hera, having spent so much time around Leo and the others, had long since be immune to good looks. Her heart didn’t flutter so easily anymore. So, she epted the gesture without flinching, cool and unbothered.


    Hera offered him a polite, curt smile before gently retracting her hand. Then, she turned her gaze to Alice, who looked utterly stunned. Of course, she was; she hadn’t received anything close to the warm wee Hera just got.


    But really, how could she? The moment Alice arrived, she had already started shedding tears, and while she was certainly attractive in her own right, her appeal paled inparison to Hera’s hourss figure and breathtaking beauty.


    "And you are?" the man asked suddenly—in perfect English.


    For a moment, everyone paused. So, he <i>did</i> know how to speak English. Apparently, he had forgotten his earlier act, too lost in his lovestruck daze. Alice’s face turned red from humiliation, and she stomped her foot in frustration.


    Realizing his slip up, the man awkwardly cleared his throat, then hastily reverted back to French, as if "And you are?" were the only English words he’d ever known.


    Hera nearly burst outughing again as he resumed muttering under his breath in French—his tone light but clearly mocking.


    "Mon Dieu! This woman—why is she ruining my moment?" he muttered under his breath in French. "Don’t tell me she’s jealous just because someone stunning is stealing her thunder? Please, I don’t chase after kids. Is she even an adult? Look at that t chest. Ugh. I want to talk to <i>mon amour</i>."


    He stole a nce at Hera, assuming she, like Alice, wouldn’t understand a word. But the flicker of amusement in Hera’s eyes made him freeze, as if he’d just been electrocuted. Did she understand him?


    Or was she simply entertained by the situation? He couldn’t tell. In the end, he convinced himself that she was probably just charmed by the sound of French, like most foreigners.


    So, with a satisfied grin, he pointed at the small banner he was holding and tapped the word ’<i>Andarta’</i>, then motioned toward Hera. She gave a small nod in confirmation, and his face lit up with delight. Without hesitation, he gently took Hera by the arm and began to lead her forward, gesturing cheerfully for the others to follow.