"Come in," Lucas replied flatly.
The door opened.
It was Liona, carrying a dinner tray.
Warm soup. Bread. Neatly arranged.
But her expression… was different.
Usually she would lower her head, awkward, faintly trembling.
Now? Blank. Cold.
Liona stepped inside without ceremony, closed the door behind her, and placed the tray on the small table.
"Eat," she said tersely.
Her voice was sharp… unfamiliar.
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"What's with that look?"
Liona did not smile.
"You have gone too far today," she said coldly. "You dared to speak to the Baroness with insolence. You are not her real son—your actions are beyond anything I can forgive."
Lucas clicked his tongue quietly.
"Damn it… this loyalty is absurd," he muttered.
"Oh, so now I'm wrong just because I didn't obey blindly?" he shot back.
Liona glared at him.
"Your place is not to question. Your duty is to obey."
Lucas rose from the bed.
"And my duty is to live better—not just nod along like a puppet."
