In the deathly silence, only Fuer's whimper could be heard as she clutched Issol's clothes and pulled at them gently, as if hoping that this small act would stop her little miss from standing there, facing these maids head-on.
Unfortunately, Issol did not notice.
Her attention was fixed on Loün, and Loün alone, as they stared at one another. And suddenly, Loün's lips curled upward, forming a sardonic smirk as she stepped closer, leaning down to whisper into Issol's ear.
Whatever she said, she said it slowly, and when she pulled back, she was smiling in satisfaction, as if she had just delivered a blow that could not be seen.
She waited.
She waited to see Issol flinch. Or cry. Or break.
But nothing happened.
Issol's expression did not change.
Her face remained blank, almost distant, and it was only then that Loün realized something was wrong. The satisfaction on her face faded, replaced by irritation, then anger, as Issol's lack of reaction began to gnaw at her.
"Don't dream of climbing the social ladder with your slut maid," Loün snapped sharply. "Know your place."
Issol frowned slightly, not at the words themselves, but at the voice that carried them. Her gaze drifted, slow and unhurried, from Loün to the maid standing beside her, the one who stood straighter than the rest, as if she belonged somewhere higher.
She wondered, briefly, who truly did not know their place.
"You think the First Young Master helps you of his own will?" Loün continued, her voice rising. "Everything you receive is because the House of Varyssane's precious Miss allows it."
She clicked her tongue loudly. "Unworthy bitch."
The maids laughed, though some of them did so uneasily.
Issol listened quietly, and after a moment, she sighed. She could not help but wonder how Loün was still allowed to work in a house like this when her mouth was so foul, far too foul to belong to any respectable dragon house.
That small frown on Issol's face made Loün's lips twitch upward again, mistaking it for distress.
But before she could savor it, Fuer let out a pained cry.
"That's not true!"
Loün's expression darkened immediately as she raised her hand, stepping forward, intent clear.
And only then did Issol speak.
Her voice was hoarse, but calm.
"If you truly believe that my first brother does not value us," she said quietly, "then you may slap her again."
The words were not loud.
They were not threatening.
But Loün still froze.
Issol tilted her head slightly, as if thinking.
"And if you are certain," she added after a pause, "then you may strike me instead."
Fuer whimpered and pulled at Issol's clothes more desperately, but Issol did not notice. She was still looking at Loün, waiting, as though this were a simple matter of logic.
For a brief moment, her eyes met Issol's mismatched ones.
They were cold and frighteningly empty.
And that unsettled her.
"W-What?" Loün snapped, forcing a laugh. "You think staring like that will scare me?"
She tried to swing her hand.
It would not move.
Her fingers trembled.
The observing maid shifted uncomfortably behind her, frowning. "Loün," she muttered under her breath, "that's enough."
"Shut up," Loün hissed, but her voice had lost its earlier sharpness.
Issol spoke then, her voice low and hoarse, yet even.
"If you believe my brother values nothing here," she said calmly, "then striking her or me should cost you nothing."
The words were simple, but they landed heavily.
Loün's breath hitched.
Her hand dropped abruptly, as though burned.
"That's not—" She clicked her tongue, anger flaring to hide her unease. "Don't flatter yourself. You think you matter?"
Issol's gaze drifted briefly to the maid standing behind Loün.
Then back to Loün herself.
"I am not the one insisting that I do," she replied.
The silence deepened.
Loün's jaw tightened. Her eyes darted away.
"Tch."
She lowered her hand fully and took a step back. "You're not worth the trouble."
She turned sharply and stormed off, her retreat far less confident than her approach.
The remaining maids followed quickly, their earlier laughter gone.
Issol watched them leave, then felt Fuer's shaking hands tighten against her clothes.
She looked down, confused.
"Did I say something wrong?" she asked quietly.
Fuer could not answer.
Issol hummed to herself, nodding faintly as if reflecting on her own actions, as though she had done something right.
On the other hand, Fuer, who had witnessed everything since Issol's sudden appearance, felt cold sweat gather at her back. She had been behind her little Miss the entire time, and she could clearly feel the coldness that had radiated off Issol while she faced Loün. Yet now, with everything over, her little miss turned to look at her with an innocent expression, her voice soft, her demeanor gentle, asking if she had said something wrong.
Anyone else would have thought her harmless.
Only Fuer knew better.
She looked at Issol's face again and wondered if she had imagined that coldness entirely.
But the thought barely formed before Fuer shook her head, dismissing it, as she noticed Issol's back already moving forward.
Issol reached the entrance of the corridor before she realized there was no movement behind her. She stopped and looked back, only to see Fuer still kneeling on the floor.
"Why?" Issol asked, tilting her head to the side in wonder, genuinely confused.
Fuer stared at her mistress's puzzled face and replied silently, pointing at her cramped legs.
"Pain."
It took a moment before realization dawned on Issol. She stepped back toward Fuer as if to help, but suddenly stopped, looking down at her own tiny body, her face scrunching in clear dislike.
Fuer noticed immediately and spoke quickly. "It's fine, Miss. I'll get up on my own soon."
Issol studied her seriously for a while, as if confirming the truth of her words, before nodding quietly and turning to leave. She had taken only a few steps when she suddenly stopped again and turned around.
Fuer was confused at first, then thought that her Miss was urging her to hurry. But in truth, Issol had simply remembered that she had already lost her way earlier while searching for Fuer.
After struggling and finally managing to stand, Fuer looked up just in time to see Issol turning and walking forward. She sighed inwardly, believing she had guessed correctly.
From behind, her little miss's figure already hinted at a future both beautiful and composed. When facing the maids earlier, she had looked so strong. And though Issol was neglected by her family and seemed powerless, Fuer could not forget the cold that had surrounded her then.
It lingered in her memory.
She only noticed something was wrong when she felt eyes on her.
Fuer looked up and saw Issol standing still, staring at her.
She startled slightly, then grew nervous, thinking her miss might question her about what she had heard regarding the First Young Master.
"Miss?" she asked shakily. "What's wrong?"
Issol looked at her, then looked forward, then back at Fuer again.
"Don't know."
Fuer was confused until Issol spoke once more, quietly.
"Don't know the way."
Understanding struck instantly.
Fuer hurried forward to lead the way, scolding herself under her breath as she limped, knocking herself lightly on the head.
Issol watched her antics for a moment before looking away. But when she thought Fuer wasn't paying attention, she reached up and tapped her own head curiously.
She winced immediately.
When she looked up again, they had already reached her bedroom.
And Fuer was staring at her.
Which could only mean she had been caught.
Issol met her gaze with a straight face, walked past her, and entered the room with the dignity of a proper lady, as if nothing at all had happened.
When she noticed Fuer's eyes were still on her, she turned and asked with an innocent frown,
"What's the matter?"
All Fuer could see were pink bubbles.
Her heart nearly burst as she gushed inwardly at how cute her little miss was, and how cute that small, awkward act had been. She struggled to contain herself.
When Issol's blank gaze lingered, Fuer quickly turned her eyes away, reminding herself that she could not afford to let her emotions spill out and scare her miss.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden growling sound.
It came from Issol's stomach.
It was loud enough that Fuer stared in disbelief, wondering how something so small and flat could make such a sound. And somehow, she found it unbearably cute.
Everything about Issol seemed cute now.
The sound came again.
Issol instinctively held her stomach and looked at Fuer, her eyes carrying a faint sense of grievance.
Fuer blinked, then made a small enlightened sound.
She raised her hand to knock herself on the head again, stopped midway, then hurried out of the room to fetch something for her Miss to eat, muttering to herself all the while.
She reminded herself firmly to stop bullying herself in front of her little miss.
After all—
She didn't want Issol picking up such a bad habit.