Lyra's smile slowly faded, seeing that Duke Kleo didn't give her any response. Her happiness was like a thinning mist, then evaporated completely. She was too dragged away by the euphoria to forget reality.
Now she looked down at the food, which looked both pathetic and disgusting. Even the texture of the meat could not be detected. Also ridiculous-looking garnishes. She bit her lip, feeling like her efforts were in vain.
"I-I guess you'd like to eat the dishes of the royal chef instead." Her self-confidence shattered in an instant. She almost sobbed because she felt ashamed and useless. Then she looked at the royal chef awkwardly, turning to the kitchen that was like a house that collapsed and was destroyed by a natural disaster.
"You can cook now, Mr. Chef. I will clean the kitchen…"
But Gena and Ella prevented her. "Let us clean the kitchen, My Lady. You can clean yourself now."
"Oh, ye-yeah." Lyra would never know how long she would forget this embarrassing moment. She had seen her reflection in the glass on the wall and found how pathetic she looked, more than a beggar. Her face was almost all black, her hair was scattered, her beautiful and expensive dress looked dull with stains.
'And how dare I come face to face with Duke Kleo to eat my cook. He must be insulted,' she thought sadly. So she immediately bowed to leave. "I'm going to get myself cleaned, My Lord."
She still held the food on the plate, which she planned to eat by herself. Impossible she could throw it away, while she had wanted to give it to Duke Kleo before. Her actions could reflect impoliteness.
All eyes were on her as if judging her as someone who pretended to be good to do something when she couldn't. She suddenly remembered about the past, when she was belittled by the people around her. The pain hit her again.
"Why are you cooking?" Duke Kleo suddenly asked, without even turning his head. But Lyra knew the question was meant for her.
She turned her head, still clutching the plate of charred meat. Before she could answer, Mr. Bertus asked everyone to come out of the kitchen, so that their master could speak to her. The royal chef languished because his work had to be delayed.
"I-I was thinking what you might like. Then I heard that you like meat," Lyra answered hushedly.
"Why do you want to know what I like? And why do you have to do this?" Unbeknownst to Lyra, Duke Kleo had been keeping an eye on her hand, which had been cut from a knife scratch and a burn wound. There was a soft and helpless glint in his eyes, seeing that she was injured.
Holding the plate in her hands, she lowered her head, unsure whether to admit what she was up to. Could it have a good effect? "I pissed you off last night," she admitted. "You even ignored me this morning. I just want us to make peace."
"Then?" His shoulders suddenly tensed, as the memory of last night's contradictory dream hit him again. He wondered, was she trying to leave him in the real world?
"Then I can live in peace," she said, still looking down, observing his shoes which had dried mud on the edges. He must have gotten it when he had to go out to take care of some trouble in town. "I just hope you're not mad at me anymore."
"What is your real aim? Do you expect me to release you from punishment?" He subconsciously held his breath, as he saw her pensive mysteriously. He didn't know what to do if she later said that they had to separate and such stuff. Would he throw a fury so she didn't dare to make that decision?
"I did hope that you freed me from punishment. But I know you won't."
"Did you come into my room last night?"
This was the first time she looked into his eyes, after looking up, gave off an expression of surprise and denial. In an instant the tension in his shoulders loosened, relief filled his chest.
"I-I didn't do it. I swear, really! I really was a bitch for sneaking into your room while still at the hotel. At that time I was drunk. But last night I didn't…"
"All right," he interrupted, too unexpectedly to startle her again. It was too sudden, for a question to come in and for an answer to come out. "Go get cleaned up yourself!" he ordered, without giving any explanation, leaving a girl in front of him tossed around with unspoken questions.
"Ve-very well, My Lord," Lyra muttered, having no choice. She was about to leave, but once again Duke Kleo came back to say something.
"Give that food to Mr. Bertus. Ask him to serve it at the dinner table."
The words were like bullets in her ears, making her shoulder shatter from a blow. She thought it was sarcasm because she dared to give him an uneaten meal. So she immediately straightened her intentions. "I-I can eat it myself later after I enter my room, My Lord. So you don't have to…"
"A gift shouldn't be turned down, whatever it is." He looked very thoughtful, far beyond her expectations, making her look awkward and confused.
"What do you mean…"
"I'll eat it." His answer managed to curl her lips, releasing a smile that had sunk to the bottom of the frozen lake. He subconsciously smiled a little, looking down to hide his face.
"Alright, My Lord. I will give it to Mr. Bertus to serve on the dining table."
Duke Kleo nodded repeatedly. "Hurry up and take a shower!" It was as if he couldn't bear to see her in such a disorganized appearance. "And treat your wounds!" he continued. "Next time ask for my approval if you want to do something. You can ruin the palace kitchen because of your carelessness, and you can stain the floor with your blood. The servants will have a hard time cleaning it."
It was a form of concern from him, which he didn't want to show so openly. He didn't want to see her hurt again, or exhausted from doing things she couldn't do. Moreover, she did that for him. He felt having full responsibility here.
But unfortunately, it lowered Lyra's confidence. She thought she was just a burden in the palace because she couldn't do anything right. "I-I understand, My Lord." Then she left, doing as she was told.
Mr. Bertus looked surprised after hearing Lyra's orders, including when he received a plate of charred meat from her. Everyone was also surprised, like seeing the apocalypse in front of them.
"That's what Lord Kleo said to me earlier," said Lyra with a grimace, when she saw the strange face of Mr. Bertus. "Essentially, I have said what I have to say. Now I have to take a shower to get ready for dinner." She turned her head to look for her two maids. "Ella, Gena! Let's go!"
The three of them then left the hall in front of the palace kitchen, as if not feeling guilty, leaving more than a dozen people pensive at Duke Kleo's strange order.
"I told you, didn't I?" The female butler, Mrs. Melisa, nudged Mr. Bertus after Lyra had left. "They must have had a special relationship. His Grace would never even eat overcooked food. He always wants meat with perfect doneness and texture. But now you see! This meat is like a pile of charcoal, and His Grace is still going to eat it!"
"I can hear that!" Duke Kleo's arrival was like a torrent of hot larvae spilling over everyone's faces, making them scream and jump backward. But he walked leisurely as if he hadn't had a single bad effect on anyone. "I do like things like charcoal," he said to Mrs. Melisa. "As long as Lyra cooks it," he continued. "Has that answered your curiosity?"
Mr. Bertus walked briskly to follow Duke Kleo, leaving the chefs and servants gaping in disbelief.
***