Delicate fingers caressed the surface of the teacup the youthful man was holding. The honey-colored tea reflected his serene expression. Silver eyes looked away from the liquid.
"Are you alright, Young Master?" Pola's voice was brimming with concern. She knew right away that there was something wrong.
However, Moulin only lifted his head and relaxed his posture on the couch he was sitting. He sighed with a faint smile. "I am well, Pola."
Unfortunately, Pola didn't accept his reason and continued to ask. A few guesses popped inside his mind, and she spoke. "Is it about the Lord's health?"
The Lord she meant was none other than Moulin's father. She added, hopefully wishing to comfort the young man with silver eyes. "Don't worry, young master. The Lord will definitely get better soon. Believe it."
Moulin chuckled and only nodded. "Yes, thank you, Pola. That means a lot."
