The sun rose over Veylor Estate, casting a soft golden light across the garden walls. The weather was clear, unusually calm—as if mocking the storm brewing inside.

Serelith sat quietly on her chair, hands folded neatly in her lap. She had arrived early, as always. Her posture was straight, her face expressionless, but her eyes held a glimmer of silent resolve.

Across the room, the governess adjusted her glasses, eyeing the little girl with thinly veiled disdain.

“How shall I break her today?“ she mused inwardly.

Moments later, Celene arrived—ribbons askew, half-awake, her small feet dragging. The governess’s stern expression melted into a smile as she greeted the younger child with exaggerated warmth.

But when her gaze shifted back to Serelith, her features hardened again.

A frown crept up to her face, as if Serelith's very presence was an offense.

The governess clicked her heels sharply and fixed her glasses with a single practiced motion.

“So,” her tone was clipped, “today, we will begin our lesson in table manners.”

The governess paced slowly in front of the two girls, tapping her stick against her gloved palm.

“Now, listen carefully,” she said, lifted her chin. “When seated at a noble’s table, you do not reach for the bread first. You wait until the highest-ranking person begins.”

She glanced at Celene, who looked around sheepishly. The governess gave her an approving nod and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

Celene blinked, then copied the gesture obediently. Serelith, watching carefully, followed the same movement—exactly as instructed.

A sharp crack echoed across the room.

The stick had landed across Serelith’s small hands.

She flinched but made no sound.

“That is not how a lady behaves!” the governess snapped, eyes cold and cruel.

Celene smiled faintly, sitting back in her seat, smug with false innocence.

“But, I only did what you told her,” Serelith whispered, confused. “I did exactly what she did.”

Celene turned her head, her expression pure and sweet.

“She’s lying,” she said. “She always lies.”

From the corner of the room, Marlena stood watching—arms crossed, lips curled in satisfaction. She made no move to interfere.

The heavy oak door creaked open.

Lord Tharald Veylor stepped inside, his presence filling the room like a sudden gust of wind. His eyes scanned the scene: Serelith’s red hands, the governess’s stick, Celene’s innocent face.

His expression darkened.

He took a slow step forward, his voice calm, but heavy as thunder.

“I saw everything.”

The room fell silent.

Serelith looked up at him, wide-eyed, unsure if he was angry at her too. Celene’s smile vanished.

“She told the truth,” Tharald said firmly, his gaze fixed on the governess. “And yet you struck her.”

The governess swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she lowered the stick.

“My lord, I only meant to correct—”

He cut her off with a single raised hand. “You struck a child for following your instructions. That is not correction. That is cruelty.”

Marlena stepped forward, her tone sickly sweet. “It must be a misunderstanding, my lord. Perhaps emotions were high—”

“Enough.” His voice carried no warmth now. “If you cannot guide with fairness and discipline, I will personally see to it that you are replaced.”

The governess paled. “Yes, my lord. I-I apologize.”

Marlena bowed slightly, her eyes flickering with restrained irritation. “I apologize as well. It won’t happen again.”

Without another word, Tharald stepped forward and gently scooped Serelith into his arms.

She clung to him, burying her face in his chest, and for the first time in days, allowed herself to cry.

Tharald looked over his shoulder as he walked out.

“One does not build noble ladies through fear.”

The doors closed behind him.

Tharald carried Serelith all the way to her room in silence. The weight of her small body in his arms felt far too light, like something that could break if handled wrongly.

He set her gently on the edge of her bed, kneeling before her so their eyes met.

“My little flame,” he said softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Serelith looked down, fingers curled around the hem of her dress. Her voice was barely a whisper.

“I didn’t want to burden you.”

Tharald’s expression softened, sadness flickering in his wise old eyes. He reached out and cupped her cheek—gentle, where others had been harsh.

“You’re not a burden to this old body,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You are its strength.”

Serelith blinked, the tears returning uninvited. She tried to hold them back, but they spilled anyway.

“I just wanted to learn like a noble lady should,” she said.

“And you are learning,” Tharald replied. “Faster than most. Stronger than any I’ve known.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and wrapped her in a warm embrace.

“No matter how cruel the world becomes, you must remember this: You are not alone, Serelith.”

Outside her door, the wind whispered against the stone walls—but in her room, she was safe, if only for tonight.

Lord Tharald spoke gently, “And you don't have to worry about this old man. He won’t last long in this world.”

Serelith said, “No! Grandpa won’t go anywhere. Please promise me, Grandpa, that you’ll stay by my side forever.”

Lord Tharald, unable to bear the sad face of his little flame, whispered, “I promise.”

Serelith was overjoyed. “Yay! Grandpa won’t go anywhere!”

While Serelith was laughing in her room, in the schoolroom, the governess frowned.

“Countess, because of you, I was almost doomed.”

Marlena said, “But, Governess, I gave you 500 gold coins. Are you denying—”

The governess cut off her words. “Are you blackmailing me?”

Marlena said, “No, Gover—”

“Lord Tharald clearly warned me and made an exception not to speak about today’s incident. If this had gotten out, my reputation would have been ruined. I worked for years to build what I have now. And your daughter—she can’t even learn etiquette properly. She’s too young for it. I suggest you teach your daughter first. Then think about looking down on others,” the governess snapped, her voice sharp with anxiety and anger.

She stormed out of the schoolroom.

Celene cried, “Mother, she said I’m incapable.”

Marlena hugged her tightly. “No matter what, nobody can take your place. You’re not incapable—it’s just that Serelith is a wicked girl. She must have learned it earlier, that’s all.”