CHAPTER THIRTEEN : DINNER (2)

Emilia tied a simple ribbon into her dark hair, her eyes flickering toward the reflection in the mirror. For a moment, she paused, taking in her serene expression—the calm smile that seemed far too composed, the gentle aura radiating from her that the system demanded. It struck her then, with a force so subtle it felt like a whisper in the back of her mind, the haunting familiarity of it all.

This facade, the graceful demeanor enforced upon her, wasn't new. It was a mirror to the person she had been in her past life—a girl trained to suppress her true self. Smiling, laughing, and pretending to be the perfect daughter, desperate for love and family, wearing a mask so pristine that even she sometimes forgot it wasn't real. It was a performance, choreographed to please everyone but herself.

She spun slowly in the room, her gaze drifting to the ornate patterns on the carpet as the weight of the gown flowed around her like a cascade of silken water. A sigh escaped her lips as she glanced at the translucent status window that flickered into her view: Act of a Saint. The title sat there, glowing softly, mocking her in its simplicity. It was annoying, certainly, but she found herself unable to truly resent it. Perhaps because this was how she had always been—playing a role, blending into a script written long before she arrived, just to survive.

When she finally descended the grand staircase and stepped into the opulent dining room, she was greeted by silence. The gilded room, with its high ceilings and chandeliers, felt almost hollow in its grandeur. She was early.

The butler, preoccupied with his tasks, barely glanced in her direction as he gestured toward a seat—the wrong seat. Oblivious to the error, Emilia moved with effortless poise and settled down, embodying the grace expected of her title. The minutes passed quietly, her composure unwavering as she waited.

It was then that she noticed her.

Golden hair cascading down like a veil of sunlight, pale eyes glimmering with the chill of a winter's morning—Adelaide. The embodiment of noble perfection. Her every step, every movement, seemed orchestrated to exude elegance as she entered the room, her maids trailing behind like loyal shadows. But the serenity of Adelaide's entrance cracked ever so slightly when her gaze landed on Emilia, seated unknowingly in her place at the dining table.

Adelaide's lips parted, her expression faltering for the briefest of moments before she recovered, slipping seamlessly back into her practiced mask of innocence. She opened her mouth to speak, her voice a delicate balance of surprise and wounded politeness, ready to paint herself as the victim.

Before Adelaide could utter more than a syllable, Emilia rose, her face serene, her smile unshaken. "I apologize," she said softly, her tone measured and sincere as the system filtered her words. "I didn't mean to make things difficult for you."

The butler, crossing paths with her just outside the door, hesitated, guilt etched into his features. He knew he had erred—how could he have been so careless as to direct the Duke's returning daughter to the wrong seat? As he opened his mouth to speak, an apology teetering on the edge of his tongue, Emilia smiled gently, silencing him with her calm demeanor.

"I'm going out to take care of a few matters," she said simply, her voice carrying no trace of resentment. The butler fumbled with his coat pocket before hastily pressing a small pouch of coins into her hand.

"You'll need this," he mumbled, the shame in his voice unmistakable.

Emilia inclined her head in thanks, her grace unbroken, and tucked the pouch into her cloak as a passing maid hurriedly draped it over her shoulders. The chill of the evening greeted her as she stepped outside, the golden glow of the estate's lanterns illuminating her path.

Behind her, the dining room buzzed with subdued activity. Adelaide remained seated at the table, her expression as serene as ever, but the corners of her mind bristled with frustration. Her teeth clenched behind her composed smile as she watched Emilia walk away, leaving her victory hollow and unsatisfying. How dare she leave without allowing Adelaide the satisfaction of asserting her control?

Adelaide rose abruptly, smoothing her gown with practiced grace before following Emilia into the corridor, her steps hurried yet measured. "Emilia," she called out, her voice soft and sweet, carefully laced with concern. "Are you sure you're alright? I didn't mean to cause any trouble earlier."

Emilia paused, her gaze distant, her thoughts far from the petty argument she had just left behind. Her stomach gave a quiet, impatient growl, and a faint sigh escaped her lips. She turned slightly, offering Adelaide a polite, detached smile.

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice steady. "I just needed some fresh air."

And with that, she continued walking, her cloak billowing slightly in the cool breeze. Her mind wandered, not to the tension in the dining room or the system's persistent interference, but to a far simpler, more immediate concern.

She was hungry. And more than anything, she was craving meat.

*****

The Duke and Duchess descended the grand staircase with their usual composed demeanor, their presence commanding respect from the gathered servants. Adelaide stood near the dining table, her face calm, masking any sign of the earlier incident.

The Duke's sharp eyes swept the room. "Where is Emilia?" he asked curtly, his voice carrying an edge that silenced the air.

Adelaide stepped forward with an apologetic smile, her voice sweet and soothing. "Father, she mentioned she needed some time to herself. I believe she might still be settling in or perhaps want to take a walk to clear her mind. It must be overwhelming for her to adjust so suddenly."

The Duchess tilted her head, her piercing gaze locking onto Adelaide for a moment. "Is that so?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral, though her curiosity was evident.

Adelaide nodded quickly, her smile unwavering. "Yes, Mother. I'm sure she'll join us once she's ready. I thought it best to give her space."

The Duke's expression remained unreadable, but the butler, Evan, standing silently nearby, glanced at Adelaide with a hint of suspicion. He knew better—he had witnessed the earlier exchange and Emilia's quiet departure. Yet, years of service had taught him to hold his tongue unless directly addressed.

"Very well," the Duke said, taking his seat at the head of the table. "Let us not delay."

The family began their dinner, the clinking of silverware filling the otherwise tense silence. Adelaide, ever the picture of grace, carefully managed the conversation, steering it toward lighthearted topics about the upcoming academy enrollment and the state of the Duchy. She seemed intent on smoothing over the absence of Emilia as if it were a trivial matter.

But Raphael wasn't so easily distracted. His fork paused mid-air, his thoughts drifting back to the young girl he had escorted to the estate. Emilia, who had just arrived in this unfamiliar place, was surrounded by strangers. Why would she choose to isolate herself instead of staying for the meal?

"Is something bothering you, Raphael?" the Duchess asked, noticing his distracted expression.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss his unease. "No, Mother. I was just thinking about Emilia. Strangely, she didn't stay for dinner after traveling such a long way."

Adelaide's grip on her glass tightened slightly, but her smile remained in place. "Oh, Raphael, you worry too much. She probably needed some time alone. It's a big adjustment for her, after all."

"She didn't seem the type to shy away from company," Raphael muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

The Duke raised a brow at his son's words. "Are you implying something, Raphael?"

"No, Father," Raphael replied quickly, though his gaze flickered toward Adelaide once more. "I just hope we're not making things more difficult for her."

The Duchess reached over, placing a gentle hand on Raphael's. "Give her time. She's still a stranger to all of us, and this household is no less daunting for her than it would be for anyone else."

Raphael nodded but couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off. As the conversation moved on, he found himself glancing at the empty chair once more, a growing determination settling in his chest. He needed to check on her.

Meanwhile, Adelaide silently seethed, the weight of the butler's glance and Raphael's remarks gnawing at her carefully constructed facade. How could Emilia, with her quiet demeanor and simple words, so easily sow doubt?

*****

Emilia knelt in the middle of the slums, her simple white gown now stained with mud and dirt. She cradled a basket of bread and a small jug of milk, both of which she had planned to use for her modest dinner. However, the system had other plans.

"Share your blessings with the less fortunate," it had chirped in her mind, accompanied by a series of blinking red notifications she couldn't ignore.

Less fortunate? Emilia thought bitterly as she looked around the slum's dark alleys, lined with crumbling walls and broken windows. I don't have much myself. But of course, that doesn't matter to you, does it, System?

With a deep sigh, she walked deeper into the maze of narrow streets, clutching her modest offerings. Her footsteps echoed faintly in the still air, drawing the attention of a few hollow-eyed children rummaging through trash bins in the dim light. Their faces were gaunt, and their clothes hung in tattered strips around their thin frames.

As Emilia approached, she softened her expression—a gentle, saintly calm enforced by the system's filters. "Are you hungry?" she asked softly, holding out a piece of fresh bread. The children froze, their wide eyes darting between the bread and Emilia's face, as if unsure whether to trust her.

"It's okay," she encouraged, her voice warm and soothing. "Take it. I brought enough for everyone."

Hesitantly, one of the children stepped forward—a boy with a dirt-smudged face and trembling hands. He reached out and snatched the bread, retreating a few steps before tearing into it ravenously. Seeing this, another child crept closer, then another. Soon, Emilia found herself surrounded by a growing crowd of orphans, each one eager but hesitant, their eyes filled with a mix of desperation and gratitude.

She handed out the bread and poured milk into small cups she had brought with her. The children devoured their portions quickly, and for the first time in a long while, smiles flickered across their faces. Emilia watched them, a small smile on her lips, though inside, she felt a twinge of resentment.

"This isn't my life," she thought, biting back the irritation that bubbled beneath her calm exterior. 

But as she observed the children, some laughing softly, others chatting as they ate their modest meal, Emilia felt her irritation waver. No, the system never asked me to harm anyone, she admitted to herself. If anything, it's forcing me to be kinder than I'd like.

After distributing the last of the bread, Emilia sat on the ground with the children, her knees tucked beneath her. They gathered around her, their trust growing as they realized she wasn't there to harm them or ask for anything in return.

A small girl, no older than five, leaned against Emilia's side, her tiny fingers clutching at the hem of Emilia's gown. "Are you an angel?" the girl asked, her voice a whisper.

Emilia froze for a moment, the question catching her off guard. An angel? The thought almost made her laugh. She, who had been thrown into this world against her will, forced to live a life dictated by an unyielding system, couldn't be further from angelic.

"No," she replied softly, brushing a hand over the girl's matted hair. "I'm just someone passing through."

The girl didn't seem to understand, but she smiled up at Emilia anyway, her eyes shining with newfound hope.

As the children finished their meal, Emilia stayed with them, listening to their stories about the harsh realities of life in the slums. She didn't offer empty promises or words of comfort she couldn't fulfill. Instead, she simply listened, her presence alone seeming to bring them solace.

For a moment, Emilia allowed herself to forget the system, the saintly persona it forced upon her, and the larger world of schemes and dangers awaiting her back at the Duke's estate. Here, surrounded by these innocent children, she felt something she hadn't experienced in a long time: peace.

But as the night deepened and the children began to disperse, Emilia's thoughts turned dark again. How much longer will I have to live like this? How much longer will the system control my every move?

She stood, brushing off her gown, and looked around at the dimly lit alley one last time. The children waved at her as they retreated to their makeshift shelters, their faces brighter than when she had first arrived. Emilia waved back, her expression serene but her heart heavy.

As she turned to leave, the system's voice chimed in her mind, cheerful and insistent. "You've fulfilled today's task. Kindness brings blessings!"

Emilia scoffed silently. "Blessings, huh? If only those blessings included freedom."

Pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she walked back toward the estate, her steps heavy but her head held high..