[O]bserving the elegant entrance to the home restaurant, Ionia reached out for the gleaming brass doorknob, warmed by the soft ambient lighting, and turned it with a twist.
The door swung open slowly, revealing a warm and inviting atmosphere filled with tantalizing aromas and the soft hum of relaxed conversations.
Ionia stepped inside, her thoughts briefly interrupted as Draven called from behind, "H-hey, wait up."
Ionia sighed and hastened her pace into the dining room, wanting to avoid further interaction with him. Her face wore a queasy expression, as if she had been running from an unknown dread, making the entire ordeal seem bothersome.
She swiftly reached a seat at the far end of the table, the one farthest from the head's seat. Just as she was about to sit down, the Marquis, with subtle authority, spoke her name, "Ionia."
Her body stiffened momentarily, aware that her entrance had hushed the room.
"Your seat is here," the Marquis indicated the empty chair next to him.
Ionia appeared perplexed, her narrowed eyes suggesting that his request was as alien to her as a foreign concept. When had she ever sat beside him?
Although it was unusual, Ionia moved to the indicated seat and settled down. Her peripheral vision caught Draven standing by the doorway, likely contemplating where to sit now that her chosen seat had disrupted the norm.
After a prolonged pause, he settled down beside a delicate, silver-haired girl of twelve sitting across from Ionia.
With a gentle smile and a polite demeanor, the little girl clasped her hands together and welcomed her, "Ah, it's great to have you over for dinner, sister."
Ionia regarded the young girl with a long, searching gaze, attempting to discern any malice in her expression or body language. However, all she found was a hint of discomfort, especially when her response was delayed.
"Hmm," Ionia replied curtly, a palpable heaviness settling over the already peculiar atmosphere.
"Father here was just singing praises of your swordsmanship skills this morning," Stellia said, trying to break the tension that hung in the air.
Ionia couldn't help but feel that this dinner wasn't just a casual invitation. It seemed more like an attempt to pressurize her or, perhaps, an investigation in disguise.
"Oh? He did..." Ionia responded, her gaze locked onto Stellia's silver eyes, which bore a striking resemblance to their father's. An unusual intensity in her gaze made the young girl slightly uneasy.
"Y-yes? Oh, yes, he did mention that he was impressed with how you performed in actual combat."
"Ahem-!" The Marquis, sensing that the conversation might head in an uncomfortable direction, cleared his throat, in an attempt to redirect their attention.
"Sister, you're really impressive—"
In a rather harsh tone, Ionia interrupted cuttingly, "Since when did he start showing interest in my abilities?"
Stellia seemed taken aback by her elder sister's tone.
"Your sister was just being polite, trying to make you feel comfortable," the Marquis chided in a cold manner.
The semblance of a sneer appeared on Ionia's lips, and a heavy silence settled over the room again.
Just then, the door swung open once more, and in walked Lionel, a slightly tall 16-year-old with black hair and piercing blue eyes. He was followed by his twin, Dionel, who shared similar features.
Lionel exuded the confidence of a young master, while Dionel adopted a more laid-back demeanor, his hands resting casually behind his head.
It had been four years since they had begun residing at the Marquisate, seeking to learn the ways of the sword from their uncle, the Marquis.
Lionel's brisk stride came to an abrupt stop as his gaze fixated on the seat next to Stellia. Among the twins, he was the one who displayed a rather protective nature when it came to his sister. The sight of his customary seat being occupied by Draven, however, didn't sit well with him.
"Tsk," he scoffed with annoyance but reluctantly took the chair next to Draven. Dionel, his twin, settled in the chair beside him.
Noticing that most of the seats on her side of the table remained empty, Ionia couldn't help but narrow her eyes with a blank expression. It was a subtle but potent way of indicating to her that she was the anomaly, the outsider who didn't truly belong.
"Why is the disgrace of the Lysander family even here?" Lionel sneered sourly, giving Ionia a dark and hostile glare.
Ionia paid no attention to him, as if his presence was beneath acknowledgment. Instead, she picked up her fork and knife from the side of her plate, nonchalantly slicing into her steak.
Infuriated by her dismissive attitude, Lionel couldn't contain his anger. "Why you? How dare you ignore me?"
Dionel had to step in and hold his irate twin back to prevent him from making a scene. "Calm down, Lionel."
The Marquis, with a hint of gentleness in his tone, ordered, "Please, settle down."
Reluctantly, Lionel complied without further complaints and soon, another conversation began at the table, but Ionia showed no interest in participating.
Stellia, in a cheerful and excited manner, turned her attention to her older cousin. "Big brother, how was your trip to the market today?"
Lionel's mood instantly brightened as he responded with a gentle smile, "It was great. In fact, I bought you a present."
"Really? Lionel, you're the best!"
Lionel couldn't help but chuckle, "Yeah, yeah, I know."
As they continued to chat, Ionia lifted her fork and decided to eat in silence. However, upon tasting the meat, she felt a wave of nausea washing over her.
The metallic taste of blood tainted her senses, making the tough meat a challenge to chew.
"Fu fu…"A barely audible chuckle reached her ears, drawing Ionia's attention as she glanced over her shoulder.
It was the same maid with short brown hair and freckles, the one who had bullied her relentlessly in the past. She was the very person who had shoved Ionia into a bucket of filthy mop water when she was just twelve.
The woman had her hand to her lips, sporting a malevolent sneer. It was clear that she was behind the raw, slightly bleeding meat on Ionia's plate, a subtle act of cruelty. And since everyone was engrossed in their delightful conversations, no one noticed her subtle form of bullying.
With a sigh of frustration, Ionia set her fork aside and picked up a spoon, attempting to taste the tomato soup. However, the taste left her wanting to spit it out; it was anything but appetizing.
Finally, Ionia set down her utensils, her appetite thoroughly extinguished.
Lionel couldn't resist making a spiteful comment, "Hah, can't believe some people eat like hungry ghosts."
Draven was quick to chastise him, "Lionel."
"W-what?" Lionel protested, seemingly unaware of the tense atmosphere. "Come on, I wish she had a bit of class like Stellia. Maybe then I wouldn't lose my appetite just looking at her."
With an audible screech of her chair, Ionia rose to her feet, her irritation apparent. "Perhaps my palate has been dulled by dog food, but these 'fine dishes' do little for me. Excuse me."
She started in the direction of the door, her mood visibly soured.
Just then, the Marquis's voice, tinged with a hint of anger, called out after her, "Ionia Lysander, I did not grant you permission to leave."