The Return of the Cannon Fodder Trillion Heiress - Chapter 832

Chapter 832: Chapter 832 Art Gallery
Still, when it came to food, Hera wasn’t heartless. She made sure to treat Alice, too—if nothing else, she still had a little decency left.

Alice, still dazed and unable to fully process what was happening, could only accept whatever was shoved into her hands. She moved like an empty shell, completely out of it, to the point where Minerva actually started to worry. Just in case, she made Alice grab the back of her jacket like a child being kept from getting lost in a crowd.

Everyone who saw this unusual group couldn’t help but stare. They were all strikingly good-looking, but their combination was… odd.

One was a loudmouth, one looked like a spacey weirdo, one was clearly the sugar mommy, another seemed like a lost child, and the last one acted like a banana mascot. Behind them trailed their bodyguards, like tired chaperones on a chaotic school field trip.

It was chaotic, endearing, and downright hilarious—like a group of oversized kids being shepherded around by reluctant adults. A sight no one could ignore.

And it wasn’t just luxury clothes, bags, shoes, and jewelry they were shopping for—Athena had added “eye candy” to her list. She was openly window shopping for handsome men, casually commenting on their looks, builds, and especially their pectoral muscles with zero shame.

What she didn’t realize, however, was that someone had been quietly keeping tabs on her antics. It wasn’t until she made her tenth remark about a “fine set of abs” that her phone buzzed with a string of messages.

[Zen: Do you really think his body looks better than mine?]

[Zen: (Image.jpeg)]

[Zen: And you’re seriously saying he’s good looking, is he better looking than me?]

[Zen: Don’t overthink it. I’m just doing a field study on women’s preferences for a concept MV.]

[Athena: …]

Athena felt like she’d been caught red-handed. Her eyes darted around suspiciously, searching for hidden cameras or someone spying on her—it was too perfectly timed for Zen to send that message just as she made another cheeky comment.

Even though she was flustered, her fingers betrayed her. Without hesitation, she secretly saved the picture Zen had sent—the one with his bare torso and sculpted abs—and quickly moved it into her hidden album, locking it away where only she could find it. Then, she tucked her phone away as if it were contraband.

After that, she stopped commenting on the men around her altogether. For some reason, she became hyper-aware of her surroundings, feeling as though the hairs on her arms were standing on end—like someone was watching her, planning something.

But after a few moments of internal chaos, she finally calmed down enough to type a proper reply to Zen.

[Athena: Hmm… not quite sure yet. Maybe send a few more—different angles, better lighting, maybe some new poses? Just to be thorough, you know.]

[Athena: ( ʘ ‿ʘ )]

[Zen: Do you really think you can fool me?]

[Athena: Up to you. I’m just trying to provide an objective, professional opinion.]

[Zen: (Image_Library_Shared)]

[Athena: (￣﹃￣)]

[Athena deleted a message]

[Athena: Ahem! Not bad. I’d say you could definitely make it into the top 10 hottest guys in the industry…]

[Athena: But seriously, why do you have a whole library of ab pics ready to go? Are you prepping to model for Calvin Klein or something?]

[Zen: …]

Athena waited… and waited… but Zen never replied. He just left her message on “seen” and vanished. What she didn’t know was that Zen was too flustered to respond. How could he possibly admit that he’d taken those photos a while ago—specifically after that night between them?

That night had left quite the impression. He was still wondering if his body really was that irresistible… or if Athena just had a hidden beast mode she only unleashed when the lights went out. Either way, he still hadn’t fully recovered from being thoroughly drained the next morning.

After getting her energy recharged by Zen’s eye candy pictures, Athena stopped checking out the men around her—suddenly, everyone else just looked… bland. She didn’t even realize the shift and chalked it up to being tired of looking.

The group continued their lively tour around Paris when they happened to pass a long line in front of a newly opened art gallery featuring a young, famously talented painter. Naturally, curiosity sparked.

After all, this was Paris—the city of love, yes, but also the city of art and dreams. It was the very reason Hera had been hauling in all the latest collections: Parisian luxury brands often infused their pieces with extra creativity and exclusivity, especially for the upper class and old money clientele. Here, even the designers were artists, and every detail spoke of vision and legacy.

So when they saw the crowd, Hera and the others decided to buy tickets—though pricey, it was worth the experience. Inside, they were met with a stunning collection. One piece, in particular, caught Hera’s eye. Standing before a massive 60-inch canvas depicting Ragnarok—the apocalyptic battle between gods, angels, and devils—Hera felt a strange sense of familiarity. Something about the brushwork… the energy… stirred a memory deep within her.

Normally, Hera would quietly appreciate art like this, but this time, her thoughts wandered deeper. ‘This world I live in… it’s part of a novel,’ she mused silently. ‘Does God still exist here? Or have the devils already taken over—sowing chaos while the world spins endlessly around lust and destruction?’

She narrowed her eyes at the canvas. ‘If I remember correctly, lust is one of the seven deadly sins in Christian theology. But in “The Thin Line Between Love and Lust,” it’s not just lust that dominates the story—there’s also greed. How else could the male and female leads have crushed the Avery family if not for their hunger for its power and resources?’

‘Then there’s envy, pride, anger, gluttony, and sloth… all of them present in one form or another in this twisted narrative. It’s strange… this painting doesn’t just depict Ragnarok—it echoes the entire essence of the novel’s world.’

As Hera stood transfixed in front of the haunting artwork, deep in thought, the others quietly drifted away to explore. Minerva, Liz, Athena, and even Alice took the opportunity to browse the rest of the gallery. The atmosphere inside felt rich with inspiration and sophistication, and each of them—captivated in their own way—felt their artistic senses subtly awaken just by being surrounded by so much brilliance.

As Hera stood staring at the same painting for what felt like ages, her brows slowly furrowed in deep concentration. Absentmindedly, her index finger began to trace thoughtful circles along her chin—a quiet habit whenever she became lost in thought. She was trying to connect the imagery in the painting to the world she now inhabited. Somehow, it all seemed to line up.

According to Athena, the novel world they lived in was just a reflection—an imitation of the real world Athena had come from. But that only made Hera’s thoughts more tangled. ‘Was this world trying to send a warning to the real one? Or was the real world projecting its decay and sins onto this fictional one?’ She didn’t have the answer, but the question felt more relevant than ever.

Just as her mind spiraled deeper into this existential contemplation, a crisp, calm voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Do you like this painting that much?”