"What's going on here? Can anyone explain?" Cynthia demanded, crossing her arms as she glanced over the crowd of servants huddled in a circle.
"It's nothing…" a man in a white shirt spoke, then hesitated. From his attire, Cynthia assumed he was the kitchen chef. "Your Highness, we've prepared your meal. You should eat it before it gets cold."
Cynthia clenched her jaw, suppressing the anger that threatened to surface. Though his words might seem considerate, their underlying meaning was clear to her: Mind your own business.
Forcing a bright grin, the silver-haired young woman shook her head.
"How could I eat peacefully when my employees are in distress? Why don't you tell me what's happening?"
No one responded directly; only murmurs circulated among the gathered servants.
Inhaling deeply, Cynthia gestured for the crowd to part, allowing her to see what was causing the commotion.
"Should we really let her see?"
