Alpha's Discarded Luna (Talia) novel Chapter 225

< Alpha’s Discarded Luna

Chapter 223

Talia’s POV

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This foreign language performance is truly a feast for the eyes. Student after student takes the stage, showcasing a wide range of languages. Some even choose rare and lesser–known ones, languages I have never heard of, languages that sound like music themselves.

The usual crowd–pleasers remain the most popular. Vellanian. Ostarian. Halian. The languages of trade and diplomacy, the ones parents push their children to learn for

future business deals.

Language competitions are a different ball game than music competitions. Music relies heavily on talent and innate skill. You cannot fake perfect pitch. You cannot memorize your way into becoming a virtuoso.

But language? With enough preparation and sheer memorization, even the less gifted can secure a decent score. Repetition. Drilling. Hours of practice.

If music competitions test natural ability, then language competitions are a battle of hard work.

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< Chapter 223

I have to admit, this elite kindergarten knows what it is doing when it comes to organizing events and courses. The production value is impressive. The logistics are seamless. No wonder the wealthy and powerful are eager to send their

children here.

That said, effort can only take these young kids so far. Despite their preparation, their skill levels vary greatly.

Some freeze on stage. The bright lights, the sea of faces, the weight of expectations. They forget the words they memorized, their mouths opening and closing like fish out of

water.

Others have parents whose pronunciation is far from perfect. The parents speak with thick accents, and the children mimic them, inheriting the same flaws.

As a result, even after several rounds, the highest score so far

is only eighty–five. Respectable, but not outstanding.

Electra leans in, her voice a low whisper. “Talia, do they

always invite this many judges for every event?” Her eyes scan the panel, wide with disbelief. “Wow, more than half of them are foreigners!”

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< Chapter 223

She does a quick count on her fingers. Twenty judges in total. Twenty. Though only five are responsible for the final scoring, they still take input from the rest of the panel. The process is elaborate, almost excessive.

The last time I accompanied Robin to a music competition, the judging panel was just as large and filled with professionals from prestigious academies. This kindergarten certainly lives up to its elite reputation. Money really does

talk.

I nod slightly. These judges are likely language experts, fluent in multiple tongues, with some specializing in more obscure dialects. Otherwise, how could they fairly evaluate the contestants? How could they catch the subtle mispronunciations, the misplaced stresses, the tiny errors that separate good from great?

Before long, it is Aeson and Imema’s turn to take the stage.

As I expected, Aeson delivers a flawless performance. His words flow like water, smooth and uninterrupted. Every

syllable lands exactly where it should. He leaves no room for criticism, no opening for the judges to deduct points.

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Imema holds her own as well. Her pronunciation is crisp, precise, almost clinical. Not a single syllable is out of place. Her accent is impeccable, like someone who grew up speaking the language rather than learning it from

textbooks.

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Competitions like this are tricky.

Every region has its own dialect, its own unique flavor. Native speakers often find foreign accents strange, even off–putting. And foreigners feel the same way about non–native speakers butchering their mother tongue.

Even top students with perfect foreign language test scores sometimes struggle to understand native speakers abroad. The gap between textbook language and real language is

vast.

Grammar is not the be–all and end–all. Pronunciation carries just as much weight, if not more. I have seen my fair share of arrogant rich kids back in Maynard, sneering at foreign students for their accents, acting as if they are superior simply because they were born in the right place.

On stage, Imema and Aeson’s flawless recitation and perfect pronunciation earn them an impressive score. Ninety–eight. 4/8

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The two points deducted are for Aeson’s slightly stiff delivery. This performance is not just a simple reading. It is a reenactment of a short dialogue scene, complete with emotion and expression. While Aeson is an excellent student, he has never trained in acting. His gestures are awkward. His facial expressions are wooden. His performance is inevitably a bit rigid.

The competition continues. Other contestants deliver strong performances, some truly impressive, but none come close to Imema and Aeson’s score. The next highest is only

ninety–two.

Jack strokes his beard, his eyes thoughtful. “Imema has got some real talent.” He nods slowly. “So far, their group is leading by a mile.”

Electra grins, wide and mischievous. “Let her enjoy the

spotlight for a few more minutes.” She winks. “She is about to

be dethroned.”

Jack glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “That confident?

I heard Imema is not exactly lacking in the brains

department.”

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Electra leans in, conspiratorial. “Just wait. Talia is about to

wipe the floor with Imema.”

Jack’s lips twitch. A smile breaks across his weathered face.

“Now that is what I like to see.”

I cannot help but smile at their whispered scheming. Jack might be older, his hair grey and his joints creaky, but his playful nature makes him seem like a mischievous kid. The way his eyes light up, the way he rubs his hands together in

anticipation.

Before long, a teacher calls my name and Robin’s. It is our turn to get ready.

Surprisingly, we do not encounter any trouble. No Nick lurking in the shadows. No Aires hovering nearby. No Imema with her pointed comments and veiled insults.

The process is so smooth it feels almost unnatural. Like the eerie calm before a storm. The kind of silence that makes the

hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Even Robin finds it unsettling. As we wait backstage, he glances around nervously, his small body tense.

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“Ms. Jackson, where is that bad guy and that mean lady?” He frowns. “Why are they not trying to mess with us today?”

I crouch down to his level. “Maybe they think they have

already won.”

Aeson assumes I barely know the alphabet. Imema and the others believe I have nothing beyond a middle school education. In their minds, I am not a threat, nothing worth

worrying about.

Soon, it is our turn.

I take Robin’s hand, and we step onto the stage together. The lights are bright, almost blinding. The audience is a sea of faces, blurred and indistinct.

Robin’s hand is small in mine, but steady. He is not afraid,

and neither am I.

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Alpha’s Discarded Luna

Chapter 224