Interstellar: Return of the Villain
Chapter 102: Alon And Mandy

Chapter 102: Alon And Mandy

Nights in Emerald Harbor always had this deep, rich blue hue, with satellites overhead casting just enough light to make the city center glow like a finely crafted tech model.

In the neighborhoods, homes were lit up, and the usual sounds of people chatting and dogs barking filled the night air.

With a week left before school kicked off, Mandy was working late every day, trying to stash away a little extra cash.

This evening, as she neared the gate of her neighborhood, a sleek Lev pulled over, blocking her path once again.

She instinctively tightened her grip on her backpack straps, nerves on edge as a young man stepped out of the car.

"Mr. Mendez," she mumbled.

"You’re Vi’s good friend. You can call me Alon," Alon said, looking a bit weary but still maintaining that cool, composed vibe.

He noticed her shyness, which even the night couldn’t fully hide, and he offered her a gentle smile. "Mandy, for Vi’s sake, could you tell me who cured your grandmother?"

The sea breeze brushed past, clearing Mandy’s mind. She looked down, guilt weighing on her. "I... I can’t tell," she whispered, holding tight to the promise she’d made to Lyra.

She didn’t catch the brief flicker of impatience in Alon’s eyes. He was almost certain who had visited the Wright house during that time, but he didn’t want to believe it just yet.

"But my grandfather is also very ill, and it’s tearing me up," Alon sighed, his voice soft. "Just like when Mrs. Wright was so sick. I think you understand how I feel."

Of course, she understood. Her heart ached for him too.

Suddenly, Alon gently cupped her face, lowering his voice to a tender murmur. "Mandy, will you help me?"

The face Mandy had secretly dreamed of being close to was now inches away, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She quickly stepped back, tugging nervously at her braid. "No... no..." she stammered, but seeing the slight dissatisfaction in his now darker eyes, she bit her lip and added, "I’ll ask her..."

"That’s great!" Alon said eagerly.

Mandy found a quiet spot and dialed Lyra.

"Hello," Lyra answered, still in her office. She got up to grab a glass of water, noticing Mandy’s silence. "If you have something to say, just say it. I’m very busy."

The coldness in Lyra’s tone jolted Mandy back to her senses. ’What am I doing?’

She stuttered, "Um, Alon...

"He asked who cured your grandmother, didn’t he? By making this call, you’ve pretty much given him the answer," Lyra said as she pressed a switch to open the window. Her gaze drifted to the towering, lit-up buildings in the city center.

Lyra took a sip of water.

"I’m sorry," Mandy blurted out, her breath quickening with anxiety.

Lyra sighed. "You can tell him."

The way Alon had acted made it clear he already knew. Whether Mandy told him or not wouldn’t make much difference. Or, if Mandy told him, Alon would probably be more willing to swallow his pride now.

"Okay," Mandy replied, guilt and unease churning in her gut as she hung up the phone. She turned back to find Alon, eyes full of anticipation.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"It’s Lyra," Mandy admitted, noticing the change in his expression. "She used medicine and her power to cure my grandmother."

"I see," Alon said in a subtle tone, slipping back into his role as the polite but distant heir of the Mendez family. "Thank you, Mandy. I’ll be going now."

As the Lev sped away, Mandy bit her lip bitterly. She felt like a disposable tool, used and discarded.

Sitting in the Lev, Alon let out a deep breath. When his grandfather had summoned him back from a distant planet for this task, he hadn’t wanted to believe it. But now, it was clear—the person they needed was indeed Lyra.

Thinking about the message from Morrison telling him to "handle it himself," he felt a wave of powerlessness and frustration.

He actually had to seek help from someone he’d nearly pushed away.

But what other option did he have? If it meant his grandfather could recover, swallowing a bit of pride was a small price to pay.

The next day, Lyra was ready for Alon’s visit.

He showed up with a group of bodyguards, dressed to the nines in a tailored light-gold suit, his hair meticulously styled. He had this look of reluctant grace about him as he stepped into her domain.

Morrison was there to greet him at the door, immediately blocking the bodyguards from coming in. "I’m sorry, but the meeting room is too small to accommodate so many people," he said politely.

Alon wasn’t about to overstep his bounds on someone else’s turf.

Since this wasn’t a formal business deal, he’d chosen to come without even a secretary. He followed Morrison inside alone, quietly taking in the details of the estate.

It was simple yet elegant, with infrared sensors and cameras at every turn.

Some areas even had DNA verification checkpoints, making it clear Lyra didn’t take security lightly.

Once they reached the upstairs meeting room, Morrison had an assistant bring out some tea.

"Please wait a moment," Morrison said before leaving Alon to his thoughts.

Alon ended up waiting for an hour.

Although the delay annoyed him, he kept his frustration under wraps.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Mendez," Lyra said as she finally entered the room.

Despite the formal setting, she wore a fitted white T-shirt, practical pants, and short boots, looking effortlessly composed.

Alon stood and offered his hand. "Not at all. I understand you’re a busy person now."

Lyra didn’t seem fazed by any lingering tensions between them. She shook his hand lightly.

"Shall we get started?" she asked, pulling out some documents Morrison had prepared.

She began discussing the specifics of an order, but Alon couldn’t hold back any longer. He interrupted, "I think you know the real reason I’m here."

Lyra shifted her gaze from the documents to his face, leaning back casually on the sofa. "What should I know?"

Alon narrowed his eyes, leaning forward slightly as if to apply pressure. "Do you really believe I’m interested in partnering with your small factory just for these insignificant profits?"

Lyra didn’t flinch. "Sorry, but for us, the smallest profits from your family are like a feast from the heavens," she replied, completely unfazed by his condescension. Her candid response left Alon momentarily speechless.

Deciding to cut to the chase, Alon clasped his hands together. "Mandy Wright called you yesterday, didn’t she? My reason for visiting is simple—I want you to cure my grandfather’s genetic disease."

There was a brief silence before Lyra smiled. "Mr. Mendez, are you joking? If you need treatment, you should go to a hospital. I may have some healing abilities, but I don’t even have a medical license. How could I possibly dare to treat Mr. Mendez?"

Getting her to agree wasn’t going to be easy, and Alon knew it. He decided to play his trump card. "I heard you’re trying to acquire a level-nine strength-enhancing plant on Wyrmtrace. It just so happens that we haven’t started the auction yet."

"Is that so? Make sure to let me know when the auction starts so I can gather the funds," Lyra replied with a cool smile.

"You..." Alon’s anger flared up, frustrated by her pretense. But he quickly calmed himself.

Studying her indifferent expression, he responded, "If you cure my grandfather, the level-nine plant will be your payment. Additionally, we can sign a confidentiality agreement."

Lyra’s demeanor finally turned serious. "It’s a deal then. I will visit the day after tomorrow. Make sure your grandfather is ready."

"Is there anything we need to prepare? A medical pod or other materials?" Alon asked.

"No need," Lyra replied.

Alon stood to leave, but just before he reached the door, Lyra called out, "What if, instead of a confidentiality agreement, I asked for a psychokinesis mark?"

Alon’s mind immediately jumped to the superpower seed embedded in his sister’s heart, and rage flared within him. "That’s not possible," he said, his voice tight with anger.

Both of them wisely avoided bringing up past conflicts. They left the room with their new arrangement in place, yet fully aware of the tensions that lingered beneath the surface.