"That's an apple... and you're weird." the young girl muttered before glancing at Flor.
Flor cleared her throat. "Ehem, my lady. You're not supposed to be here. It's best if you leave now before the Duke finds you."
Just as she was about to pull Anastasia away from the dining hall door, the door suddenly swung open.
Flor froze in place before quickly bowing her head in respect.
Lucas stood at the entrance, his cold gaze immediately landing on Flor's hand, which was tightly gripping Anastasia's arm. His expression, already icy, darkened further when his gaze shifted to Anastasia's innocent emerald eyes-unwavering, unafraid as she met his stare head-on.
"Greetings to the Duke-my father!" Anastasia said cheerfully.
Henry stiffened at her words, cautiously turning to glance at the Duke, anticipating his reaction. He had hoped, even just slightly, that Lucas's expression would soften at the young princess's bright greeting. But instead, the Duke's face hardened with even deeper contempt as he glared at Anastasia.
"Who taught you that? Who told you to call me father? Was it Lucy, your maid?" His voice was cold, laced with quiet danger.
Yet, Anastasia seemed entirely unaffected.
"No one. But aren't you my father? That's why I call you my father!" she said innocently before shifting her gaze past him, toward the slightly open door.
From where she stood, she could clearly see the lavish feast laid out on the dining table-the same delicious aroma she had been smelling since earlier.
"Don't call me your father."
Lucas spoke coldly. Without another glance at Anastasia, he turned on his heel and strode back to the dining table, resuming his seat as if nothing had happened.
The clinking of silverware momentarily stopped as the three young nobles seated at the table turned their heads toward Anastasia. Their expressions ranged from confusion to annoyance, as if questioning why she was even there.
"What is she doing here, Father? I thought she wasn't allowed to eat with us?" Dion asked, disdain evident in his voice.
Lion, seated beside him, let out a quiet sigh.
"Be mindful of your words, Dion. She can hear you."
Flor, sensing the growing tension, took a step closer to Anastasia and spoke gently, though her grip on Anastasia's wrist was firm.
"Come with us, my lady. You heard what Young Master Dion and the Duke said-you are not allowed to dine with them."
She made a move to pull Anastasia away, but before she could take a step, a sharp clang echoed through the dining hall.
Lucas had slammed his fork onto his plate, his icy gaze snapping toward Flor.
"What do you think you're doing?" His voice was dangerously low, sending a shiver down Flor's spine.
She stiffened immediately, instinctively lowering her head. "I-I'm escorting the young princess back to her room, Your Grace... so she doesn't ruin your meal-"
Lucas's glare hardened. The weight of his gaze alone made Flor's hands tremble slightly. She had served in the Winston household long enough to know that one wrong word could seal her fate.
"Did I tell you to send her away?"
"No, I didn't."
A stunned silence filled the dining room. Even the other servants present dared not breathe too loudly.
Lion and Dion exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in confusion.
"F-Father... don't tell me... you're letting her join us?" Dion asked hesitantly, unable to mask his disbelief.
Little by little, Anastasia began to understand the meaning behind Dion's words. Slowly, a wide smile curved on her lips, and she was just about to step toward the dining table when Lucas shot her a sharp glare.
"What do you think you're doing? Did I tell you to join us?"
Ingrid, who had been silently observing the exchange, couldn't help but smile discreetly at Lucas's words.
Anastasia froze, her excitement fading as she lowered her head.
From a distance, Lucy arrived just in time to witness the scene, and her heart clenched at the sight.
From where she stood, she could clearly see how Anastasia remained standing at the side, while the two young masters and Ingrid ate happily at the table. The Duke, on the other hand, simply ate in silence, his expression unreadable.
Once Lucas had finished his meal, he finally turned his gaze back to Anastasia.
"What are you still doing here? We're done eating, so go to your room. And don't ever repeat what you did today. You're not allowed to wander around at this hour."
With that, he stood up and left without a backward glance.
The dining room fell into an odd silence as the three remaining children wore unreadable expressions.
Dion suddenly slammed his fork onto the table before standing up and helping Ingrid down from her chair.
"Let's go, Ingrid. Let's continue our dinner in my room. I have toys I bought for you-I'm sure you'll love them."
He didn't spare Anastasia a single glance as he walked away.
Ingrid, on the other hand, hesitated for a brief moment, casting a quick glance in Anastasia's direction before following Dion out of the room.
Lion, who had remained indifferent to the whole situation, simply finished his meal before finally turning to look at Anastasia.
"I'm done eating. If you want to eat, then eat this leftover food."
With that, Lion turned his back on her.
Lucy immediately rushed to Anastasia's side, gently rubbing her back in comfort. That was when she noticed the silent tears trailing down Anastasia's cheeks-tears that even Anastasia herself hadn't realized were falling.
She just stood there, staring blankly into space.
"Y-Young Lady?..."
--
"B-Brother Dion... Brother L-Lion... help me, please... I didn't do anything wrong. It wasn't me who tried to kill I-Ingrid... s-so please believe me..."
But just like every other time she begged for their understanding, Lion remained emotionless as he looked at her, while Dion's face contorted with anger.
"Then who else would do that to her?" Dion spat. "You're the only one who's always been jealous of her! You always try to make her look bad. I bet you're disappointed right now because your plan failed!"
His voice rang sharply through the room.
Lion turned away, about to leave, but before he could take a step, she reached out and grabbed his arm.
He slowly turned his head back to her, his expression unreadable. Then, he pried her fingers off his sleeve as if her mere touch was repulsive.
"Don't touch me."
His voice was cold, devoid of any warmth.
"There's no use trying to reason with us. Based on our investigation, you are the primary suspect in the attempt to poison Ingrid. And as punishment, you must face the consequences of your action."
Without another word, Lion turned his back on her and walked away, his demeanor as cold as ever.
She could only gasp at Lion's words.
Lion was just like their father-cold and emotionless. They didn't care about her, nor did they show even the slightest bit of mercy. They were willing to punish her in the name of their so-called justice.
Their chosen punishment? A lifetime of imprisonment in the Cold Tower-the place where criminals with the gravest sins were cast away, left to rot.
She couldn't believe it. It was as if they didn't care whether she suffered in that place for the rest of her life.
A mix of sadness, pain, and disappointment overwhelmed her, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked up just as the door to her cell creaked open.
Standing there was the one person who had never once addressed her by name-Lucas Winston.
Even now, as she faced the grim reality of her impending suffering, he didn't show an ounce of sympathy or emotion. If anything, it felt as if he had been the one who ordered her to be sent to the Cold Tower as punishment.
Beside him stood Ingrid, the very person they accused her of trying to poison.
She looked fragile and pale-so different from her usual self. But despite her sickly appearance, Ingrid was still in far better condition than her.
While Ingrid wore clean, well-kept clothes, she looked as if she had been dressed in rags-like a child from the past, stripped of dignity.
Between the two of them, she looked more like the one who had been poisoned.
"I-Ingrid? W-wait, Dad, why did you bring Ingrid here?!"
Dion's voice trembled with disbelief.
"She's still fragile and needs rest! It's not good for her to push herself to come to such a filthy, foul-smelling place! What if she gets infected by bacteria just by being here?!"
He immediately moved to support Ingrid, carefully adjusting her stance as he held her up. His concern was evident as he fussed over her, ensuring she was steady before shooting her a sharp glare.