[S]ol was the first to step out of the room, leading the way as they followed closely behind the young girl who bore a striking resemblance to a youthful Ionia.
Together, they ventured through the castle hallways, where the polished marble floors gleamed under the warm, soft light filtering through tall arched windows.
Portraits adorned the walls, featuring the Marquis and his most favored daughter, Stellia, but a noticeable absence of any depiction of Ionia. Her exclusion was stark in the gallery of familial achievements.
Sol maintained a contemplative expression, his eyes darting around as if searching for clues.
Ionia, with a scowl now tainting her usually blank face, followed suit. She asked, her voice flat and low, "What are you up to? I thought it was strange for you to have appeared in the real world. Is this... some sort of flashbacks?"
With his hands hanging relaxed by his sides, he turned to Ionia and replied, "I have no idea. Whatever the vestige is trying to show, it is probably closely linked to a way you could change your fate, don't you think?"
"I did say I have no intention of changing my—"
Before Ionia could complete her sentence, the young girl mumbled to herself, "Ah, the door is closed."
The youthful Ionia, struggled with the door a few more times, each attempt proving futile. She eventually gave up, leaning her back against the stubborn wooden surface, her stomach rumbling more audibly now.
Sol's eyes remained fixed on the little girl, his gaze gentle yet tinged with sadness as he observed her dejected form.
Then, a bright idea seemed to dawn on the young girl's features. "Ah! I can always harvest the berries in the garden, right?"
With renewed vigor, she straightened up and hastened her pace, rapidly closing the distance to the main entrance door.
Just as she was about to make her way outside, someone suddenly pushed her, and the little girl tumbled forward, crashing into a bucket filled with dirty, moppy water.
A low, angry growl reverberated through the older Ionia as she clenched her fists, seething with the desire to punch the one responsible for the cruel act.
The deed had been committed by a maid, who appeared to be around 16 or 17 years old. Her hair was neatly styled in a bob cut, and her face was adorned with freckles.
Suppressing a chuckle with one hand covering her mouth, the maid spoke with a malicious sneer, "Oh my, young miss, you should watch where you're going."
The youthful Ionia tried to argue innocently, her wet and dirty clothes clinging to her in patches, "Nonsense! It was you, wasn't it? Apologize right now. Or else—"
"What's going on here?" Another voice interjected. It was a voice the older Ionia knew all too well. Without needing to glance at the newcomer, she immediately recognized it.
The Marquis, her father, had just returned from a leisurely picnic in the garden. In his right arm, he held Stellia, her crippled sister, who regarded the youthful Ionia with concern.
The raven-haired girl, at the sight of them, hastily proceeded to explain her predicament, "I was on my way to pick some berries because I was hungry, but this maid, she pushed me into this bucket of dirty water."
"Oh my," the maid exclaimed, covering her mouth with a feigned look of shock, "young miss, it's not very becoming to lie for attention."
"I'm not lying!" cried the youthful Ionia, her voice laced with desperation as she fought to defend herself. "Marianne didn't bring me any food, so I went to the kitchen, and it was closed. I decided to eat the berries from the garden, but this maid pushed me."
Just then, her stomach growled loudly, announcing her hunger.
The marquis stared at her with vacant eyes and let out a heavy sigh. He demanded, "Where is Marianne? Fetch her immediately."
"Yes, my lord," the butler, who had been accompanying the marquis, nodded and motioned to Stellia's maid.
Shortly, the maid disappeared into the distance.
"Gerald, assist her," the marquis commanded, his eyes radiating disdain as he observed the younger Ionia.
An ache gnawed at the pit of the older Ionia's stomach as she watched the scene in silence, Sol, the god standing beside her.
However, before Gerald, the butler, could extend a helping hand to the younger Ionia, Stellia's maid reappeared with Marianne, who curtsied to the marquis.
The plight of the raven-haired girl all but forgotten.
"Marianne, is it true that you didn't give this girl any food?" the marquis questioned sternly.
"No, my lord! I did serve the lady some food earlier!"
"No, that's not true! Marianne, you're lying, very bad!" the younger Ionia protested, feeling cornered.
"Why would I lie, young miss?" Marianne replied calmly, her composure unwavering. "Didn't you say you wanted the food Miss Stellia was having in the garden? That's why you refused the meal I offered."
"Marianne, you're lying!" the younger Ionia wailed, tears welling up in her eyes.
"I'm not lying." Marianne sighed. "If the master doubts my honesty, I request that you verify it for yourself to prove my innocence."
The marquis, his expression unyielding, nodded and said, "Very well. Let's go."
"I can't believe she's playing the victim again," Lionel, one of her older cousins following closely behind the marquis, muttered with disdain.
"Don't judge too quickly, Lionel. Nothing's proven yet," Dionel, the more diplomatic of the twins, attempted to reason. But none of them offered a hand to help the younger Ionia to her feet.
With great effort, the youthful Ionia stood up on her own, her face soaked with tears. She wiped them away with the back of her soiled sleeves and followed the marquis to the first floor.
Ionia's quarters were the most modest among them all.
As the small crowd reached her room, Marianne bowed as if in apology and said, "Please excuse me, miss."
Upon opening the door, a tray of food was discovered on the coffee table between the two single couches in front of her bed.
The marquis scrutinized the food in silence.
"Marianne, you liar. Are you trying to frame me? There was clearly no foo—"
"Enough," the marquis's voice resonated with sternness, cutting off the younger Ionia's whining.
"P-Papa?" Stellia's delicate voice chimed in, her little figure trembling in the marquis's grip, clearly frightened by her father's fierce expression.
"Ah! Papa is sorry. He isn't mad at you, I promise," the marquis comforted Stellia by gently patting her head of silver tufts.
But what about Ionia? Who would comfort her?
Lionel's voice, brimming with repulsion, once again cut through the tension in the room. "Tsk! That's precisely what I was saying."
His words rekindled the marquis's irritation, as he admonished, "Provide her with food and ensure she's cleaned up. How dare you covet your sister's belongings? Hah, I won't tolerate such behaviors any longer."
With those words, the marquis exited the room without a sparing a look at the youthful Ionia. The butler, with a heavy sigh, followed suit. Lionel shot one final withering glare at the little, black-hair girl before departing. Just as he left, Dionel cast a glance filled with sympathy in her direction and left as well.
"Young miss, I'll prepare a bath for you. Please eat something in the meantime," Marianne said calmly, a faint triumphant smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she made her exit.
Tears still fresh on her cheeks, the younger Ionia wiped them away with the back of her soiled sleeves and approached the table to have her meal.
The bread proved excessively hard to bite into and chew, and the soup carried a slightly stale taste. Nevertheless, as long as it satisfied her hunger, the younger Ionia would eat it without complaints.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, startling the young girl. She turned to see Draven standing by the doorway.
"Can I come in?" he asked. Ionia hastily wiped her tears and nodded in agreement.
As he entered and approached the table, Draven retrieved something from his pocket—a handkerchief filled with cookies he had received from Stellia in the garden earlier.
"I thought you might like to have this," he said curtly. The younger Ionia hesitated briefly but eventually accepted the cookies.
"Th-then, I'll be on my way," he said calmly as he prepared to leave, having achieved his objective.
As he moved to depart, Ionia reached out and grasped his sleeve, her voice quivering with a touch of sadness. "Thank you."
Draven offered a curt nod and reassured her, "No problem," before he made his exit, leaving her to her meal.