The dining hall looked warm and serene as usual, with chandeliers that glimpsed elegant and romantic, and candles blazing like a skilled dancer. The marble floor was spotlessly clean, reflecting every light and hue from all the faces that passed by.
Mr. Bertus sighed restlessly beside Duke Kleo. His gray strands of hair seemed to absorb the light that fell on its surface. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want to, My Lord," he suggested, looking at Duke Kleo's left side. "There's nothing wrong with refusing it."
Duke Kleo didn't even look up, his eyes fixed on the door at the far end of the room, pressed against the premium quality red carpet. His hands were intertwined, hiding his thin lips. "I won't refuse it."
"Are you afraid that it will damage your reputation if you do? But eating a plate of charcoal…" Mr. Bertus closed his eyes as if processing all this nonsense information. "You even complain of stomach aches just from eating the undercooked meat."
That was Duke Kleo's real reason, as to why he tended to be picky about food, because he had a pretty bad digestive system lately, besides he had a more sensitive sense of taste than the average person.
"I'll take the digestive medicine after dinner tonight." Duke even still looked very relaxed, as if the poison in front of his eyes (the dish made by Lyra) wasn't a significant threat. He seemed to have forgotten that he had troubled a lot of people due to his messy digestion a few months ago, simply because he ate food with a slightly coarse texture. He was even sick for about a whole week, making it difficult for him to get out of bed.
Now he took his health matter carelessly, at a time when others were concerned about it.
"Did you eat the food just because you wanted to save your reputation, or did you do it because Miss Lyra was cooking?" Mr. Bertus asked another question, finding an initial answer in the form of the duke's face tilting at the sight.
"Don't you know the answer, Mr. Bertus?" One of Duke Kleo's eyebrows rose. "You also heard what I said in front of people, right?"
"Love is indeed blind, My Lord," Mr. Bertus hissed helplessly. "But you are too innocent and lame about anything."
"You don't understand."
"Of course I understand," protested Mr. Bertus. "I've known you for a long time. If you really like her, then you better start teaching her the right things. It is for your good, My Lord, I beg you."
Duke Kleo gave no response, again, replaced by various questions he asked himself. Did he like Lyra? It's quite difficult to accept that fact.
His focus was interrupted by the arrival of someone, Lyra, who came in through the door. On her body was attached a dark blue dress, almost the same as the night sky at that time, obscuring the light behind her that emanated from the brightly burning torch. Her hair was beautifully styled, tied in half, then braided in several sections. She seemed to be wearing light makeup as usual.
"Good evening, My Lord," she greeted gently, lifted her skirt, and sat on the chair that was already available. It was as if she had just come out of the storm that had once ruined her life, and now she was in Wereal for dinner, at the table with a duke. Life is never predictable.
"Have you treated the wound on your hand?" Duke Kleo asked, flat-faced, and in a somewhat curt tone.
Lyra raised her hands. "I have already treated it, My Lord. Thank you for your attention."
Mr. Bertus exited the dining hall after Duke Kleo asked him to do so. Though normally he never left it before Duke Kleo got up from the chair. But now it's very different. The servants outside gasped at the sight.
Ella and Gena jogged around in their respective places.
"There must be His Grace and Miss Lyra making out in there," said Gena enthusiastically.
Ella nodded with a smile, clenching her fists in excitement. "Kyaa! I'm sure they did."
Meanwhile, in the dining hall, Lyra watched her cooking, which was placed on a plate, not far from Duke Kleo's elbow. Now that her cuisine was compared to the royal chef's, the disparity was even more apparent. How talentless she was, and how terrible the cooking was even though she made it with all the heart.
"My Lord," she said as politely as possible. "Looks like you don't need to eat my cooking."
"Why?" Duke Kleo asked, without having a single mind in his head.
"Because…. Because… it seems that you better fill your stomach with delicious food."
"Isn't your cooking delicious?"
Lyra was confused to answer it. "I-I think so, My Lord. Judging from its appearance, it looks terrible."
"Don't judge the book by the cover."
"But…"
"Have you tasted it before you intend to serve it to me?"
"I… I've tasted it," Lyra nodded, reassuring herself as she remembered. She had indeed tasted it, but because she had tasted it too many times, her tongue had gone numb which made her judgment blurry.
"Then there is nothing to worry about." But he still saw the worried look in her gaze, which made him wonder what he should do. "Let's eat it together!" he suddenly asked. "I will split you in half. So you don't have to feel guilty. You can prove whether your cooking is that bad or not."
She didn't protest at all when he gave her half the grilled meat that looked like charcoal on her plate. Even she looked horrified at the sight of the meat, and why was she so daring to give it to him?
'What if he gets angry and punishes me?' she thought anxiously. She was on the verge of saying something again, trying to persuade him not to eat it. But it was too late. He had already sliced the charred meat, then chewed it in his mouth.
Lyra was silent, holding her breath while focusing on observing Duke Kleo's expression. And damn it, why did his face look flat as if he's not eating anything? Now she became even more worried and decided to join in slicing the meat on her plate, not noticing the bitter expression on his face.
She screamed as she vomited the meat, tasting the bitterness and other bad tastes. But strangely, he didn't protest at all, and even finished the meat ration on his plate, took a sip of water, then wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"My-My Lord…" she was speechless, repeatedly surveying the plate in front of him which was already empty and his lips free of charcoal adhering to the flesh.
"You've worked hard to cook, your intentions are impressive. And I would appreciate it. Maybe you need to practice harder to improve your cooking skills. But I won't let you cook anymore. You'd better do something else."
"Is it because my cooking is so bad? I know," she said, looking down, feeling guilty, and didn't see him secretly taking digestive medicine. "I've tasted this meat, and it tastes terrible. Why should you eat it? You should have to spit it out like me."
"You gave it to me. It wouldn't be wise to throw it up." Duke Kleo's face was still blank, which made Lyra feel even more guilty. "And I don't want you to cook because I don't want you to give trouble to the royal chefs and servants. So you don't have to misunderstand."
"I'm sorry," Lyra said hastily. "I thought I could please you. But I just ruined everything. I'm useless."
Duke Kleo's stiff gaze instantly weakened. His pupils dilated as if to swallow Lyra's figure whole inside. "If you really feel guilty and want to impress me you should ask me directly what I want."
Looking up quickly, her eyes lit up as if she saw a diamond. "Do… Do you want something?"
"Of course," he replied after taking another gulp of water. "Tonight the sky looks beautiful. Take me for a walk!"
***