[F]rustration surged within Ionia, her swift swivel accompanied by eyes gleaming with an intense, lethal shade of blue.
The room was immediately blanketed by an oppressive atmosphere, as if the weight of gravity itself bore down upon them. An unseen force seemed to emanate from Ionia, her aura suffocating those present.
[Bloodlust - Activated]
A notification in her peripheral vision momentarily drew her attention.
The first to buckle under the intensity of Ionia's killing intent was Stellia, who couldn't withstand the pressure. She erupted into a fit of coughing, her wide eyes trembling as she clutched her chest.
Draven, quick to respond, began to pat her back while skillfully weaving his mana around her to alleviate her discomfort. Yet, his gaze was torn, locked onto Ionia with a dark glare and teeth clenched in tension.
"Put an end to this madness," he demanded harshly, well aware of how the twins also struggled to catch their breath under the grip of Ionia's overwhelming presence.
Ionia's gaze, eerily vacant like a soulless entity, met their fear-stricken eyes as her voice dripped with a menacing edge while she posed her question, "Did I need your permission?"
Stunned by her icy demeanor, the marquis stumbled over his words, "W-what?"
"I'm saying," she hissed venomously, her eyes locked onto each person in the room like a predator closing in on its prey, "When did I need your permission to leave?"
A collective shudder coursed through everyone present, from the butler and maids who had fallen to their knees to the nobles who bore witness. It felt as though they were trapped with a formidable beast, left to wither and perish.
Draven, wanting to intervene, attempted to speak, "Ionia, what—"
However, she silenced him with a cutting demand, "Voidbringer, be silent. I'm already starving as is, there's no telling what I might do."
As her words dripped with cold disdain, her gaze involuntarily shifted to the maid trembling on the ground. The servant cowered, avoiding direct eye contact with Ionia, fearing her wrath would spell death.
Draven, slightly bewildered, questioned, "What are you saying? When did anyone stop you from eating? You don't even have to speak to us, and no one is forcing you to leave."
A fleeting hint of pain flickered in Ionia's eyes, evident to all in the room.
Meanwhile, the marquis, who had extended a hand to Stellia's shoulder to ensure her well-being, was surprised that even the twins had been unable to withstand the intensity of Ionia's bloodlust.
It baffled the marquis that a 14-year-old girl could possess the bloodlust of a seasoned war veteran. What set her apart was the abnormality of her killing intent, akin to someone who had taken the lives of multiple individuals daily, bathing in blood without remorse, akin to a true psychopathic killer.
Ionia inhaled deeply, an effort to regain her composure, and then spoke to the marquis with unwavering resolve, "In the future, Marquis, when you extend an invitation to dinner, ensure the food is fit to be eaten. Treating a guest in such a deplorable manner tarnishes the reputation of the Lysander name. It's so disgraceful that even I, as an illegitimate child, feel repulsed to share the same family name."
Her words resonated deeply, plunging the room into a heavy silence. Stellia, Lionel, Dionel, Draven, the butler, and the maid all stared at her with wide-eyed astonishment.
The marquis' countenance contorted, a blend of sternness and bewilderment etched on his face.
As she prepared to leave the room, Ionia casted another lethal glare in the direction of the specific maid, her words slow and menacing, "It would be wise for you to refrain from such foolish actions in the future."
A palpable tension hung in the air as Ionia exited. Lionel, puzzled, couldn't contain his curiosity, "What in the world is she talking about? The food looks perfectly fine to me."
He stood up and leaned forward, sampling the soup with a clean spoon, only to be met with a fit of coughing and a grimace of disgust etched across his face.
"What on earth is this? Is it even fit for human consumption?" Lionel's voice carried a mixture of disgust and astonishment, as the taste of the food was anything but refined.
The maid with short brown hair and freckles flinched, realizing her contribution to the situation.
The marquis, his frown deepening in response to Lionel's reaction, picked up a fork and took a bite of Ionia's steak, only to receive the same repulsive experience. He coughed out the food, reaching for a napkin to clean his mouth.
Observing Ionia's nearly untouched plate, symbolizing her refusal to partake while they dined, the marquis seethed with anger, his frustration evident. "Summon the cook immediately."
With a nod and a respectful bow, the butler, Gerald, promptly left the restaurant to carry out his master's orders.
"F-father?" Stellia, her voice trembling slightly, caught everyone's attention as she spoke.
Turning his focus to his daughter, the marquis' expression softened, and he inquired, "What is it, dear? Are you feeling uncomfortable in any way?"
Stellia shook her head, denying any personal discomfort. But then she added, "After all, sister is not an unreasonable person."
Lionel, who would typically be quick to make a snide remark about Ionia's behavior, found himself strangely silent. Even Dionel, his twin, and Draven regarded him as if he were a stranger.
"Anna, you have a hand in this, don't you?" Stellia inquired, her tone polite and gentle, yet tinged with sadness and seriousness.
Stiffening in her place on the ground, the maid with short brown hair and freckles, whose name was Anna, immediately bowed and kowtowed, repeating, "M-miss, this maid is guilty. Please punish me."
"I was looking forward to sharing dinner with my sister tonight," Stellia lamented, her voice quivering as tears welled up in her eyes.
"Stellia, dear," the marquis began, attempting to console her, but Stellia shook her head to stop him.
"You've offended sister and made her mad. You've ruined everything, Anna." Even the marquis cast a dark glare toward the kneeling maid, who was trembling like a wet animal.
"Now that I think about it," Dionel chimed in, "Sister Ionia did mention a couple of times that she was being bullied by this very maid."
As this conversation went on, the marquis's anger grew.
When the butler finally returned with the cook, Alex, the marquis questioned, "Gerald, did you know that Ionia was being bullied?"
"Yes, my lord. I had a faint idea," Gerald admitted.
"Then why didn't you inform me about any of it?" the marquis inquired, his frustration apparent.
"You specifically instructed me not to disturb you with anything related to Lady Ionia, my lord," Gerald responded, explaining his earlier hesitation.
Upon hearing these words, a faint expression of guilt tinged the marquis's face. Did he indeed issue such an order? It seemed plausible.
Lost in his thoughts for a moment, he contemplated the string of events from the morning's incident to the current dinner, all of which had been marked by his mistreatment of Ionia.
"My lord? What instructions should I provide to the cook?" Gerald's meek voice jolted the marquis from his trance.
After a prolonged silence, he gave his orders, "Deduct two months' salary from the cook's pay and dismiss the maid—"
"My lord, I humbly beg for your mercy," Anna implored, but the marquis regarded her with contempt.
"I have no use for a maid who fails to comprehend her place," his tone turned stern, and Anna shrank back. "Gerald, terminate her employment without any recommendation. Ensure that she is barred from serving another noble family."
With a respectful bow, the butler acknowledged, "Yes, my lord."
The cook, Alex, who was struggling to comprehend the situation, clenched his teeth in frustration, resentful for being penalized for a matter in which he played no part.
Vowing silently vowed to seek retribution for the harm that had befallen him.