Lioren shivered again, not from being sick, but from the heavy, unsettling feeling of being watched. There was something about Veyr, the way he stared at him, that made Lioren feel as if every thought and every secret were exposed.

The gaze pierced through all the layers of composure Lioren had carefully built around himself. He felt exposed, vulnerable, his chest tightening and his stomach twisting with unease.

"Cyrin, get me breakfast." Veyr said casually. His tone was calm, unbothered, yet carried a strange authority that made the words land heavier than they should have.

Cyrin's patience snapped. "Breakfast? It's freaking lunch time! And what do you think I am, your caretaker?"

Immediately, the room erupted. Arguments flew back and forth,

Cyrin launched into a tirade about how he is older than everyone in this room, and Veyr, being an audacious bastard, treats the house like a theater, always fueling the fire for his own entertainment. This is not the time to get up and demand breakfast from a respectable elder of the house.

Meirei, being an admirer of Veyr's personality, countered sharply, saying that being the oldest in the house doesn't automatically make one the wisest and respectable.

Lioren tried to focus on something else, anything but the noise pressed against him. His mind, already fragile from the past trauma, felt like it was about to crumble under the bickering. He wanted to disappear into the floor, to find a corner where the world could stop spinning.

The air was still vibrating with arguments when another sound cut through, not words, but a raw, human need.

Lioren's stomach growled. Loudly. His face turned red with embarrassment.

Sevren's eyes widened, a grin spreading across his face. He didn't speak. He scribbled. His pen moved fast across the page, then he held it up like a signboard: Oh my, the poor guy's been hungry since yesterday, and you're all busy fighting? Ridiculous."

Bickering voices fell silent, realizing how trivial their argument had become.

Lioren noticed something about Sevren not speaking at all since he woke up.

Meirei leaned over and pressed the servant's call button. In this house, each button had a specific function. Some summoned cooks, others summoned cleaners, and some triggered more usual requests.

The bell for the kitchen clanged quietly, a reminder that orders were to be followed without question.

Immediately, the servants moved with quiet precision, preparing food according to Veyr's exact preference, as Veyr hadn't yet eaten that morning. Meirei had ordered two servings, one as usual was for Veyr, and the other order was a light meal for the sick Lioren.

Minutes stretched, filled with a strange tension that balanced between chaos and calm. Leyla, placing her one hand on Cyrin, who was standing right next to her, broke the silence first, her voice soft and almost sorrowful.

"Brother... I know you care about us. You even forget to eat while worrying about us." Her gaze lingered on Cyrin, and the usual sternness in Cyrin's expression faltered. A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes, subtle yet real, as if he had momentarily forgotten the world outside the warmth of concern.

Cyrin swallowed, a lump rising in his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but words seemed too heavy, too clumsy. The usual heat of debate, the constant edge of sarcasm and irritation, fell away, leaving a rare, human vulnerability.

Amid the noise and strangeness of the room, this was the first glimpse of sincerity Lioren had witnessed. He didn't know these people, yet he knew one thing for sure: they weren't Kael's people. But certainty was not safety, and he refused to let his guard down.

But Meirei, ever the realist and unrelenting, broke the fragile peace. "You know, at night, he had a fine steak. And this morning? His favorite continental breakfast." His gaze flicked across the room, landing sharply on Cyrin.

"He only acts serious to maintain the 'elder of the house'. He hates being left alone; that's why he irritates everyone. Otherwise, you should have seen him at breakfast, eating like he won't get it tomorrow."

The words landed like stones in still water. Cyrin's brows furrowed as the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. The house, always a storm of personalities, never allowed this much calm. And yet, here it was, the truth in the middle of chaos, spoken bluntly, without apology.

Lioren saw the upcoming noise flashing in front of him, and he closed his eyes in defeat. Meanwhile, Veyr was proud of his student. Watching Meirei with admiration, for the courage he had shown in speaking up against the tyranny happening in this house.

But Meirei didn't stop there. He stepped closer, his eyes locking with Cyrin's in a rare moment of focus.

"In this house, seriousness is a disease, Cyrin, and even you haven't caught it."

The words struck deeper than they should have. For a moment, Cyrin's mind flickered back to earlier that morning, before Lioren had woken.

He remembered sitting in the living room with Leyla and Sevren, the way both of them tensed when he admitted he thought he'd seen the boy before. Suspicion had crackled in their silence until he shook his head and said no, not from those places.

Instantly, their suspicion dissolved, both relaxing in perfect unison.

It had left him amazed and a little pissed. How easily they thought alike, how lightly they treated it. With a sigh, he'd muttered then, half to himself, "Seriousness is a disease in this house and nobody here is infected except me."

Now, hearing Meirei throw his own words back at him, the weight of it pressed harder. Irritation stirred, but so did something warmer, something he didn't want to name. Against his will, the edge of a smile tugged at his lips.

The smile was brief, gone almost as soon as it appeared, but the others had seen it, and that was enough to shift the air in the room.

Just as Lioren braced himself for the inevitable return to bickering, a servant arrived with a trolley. The servant froze for a brief second, surprised to see a stranger here, someone other than Mia or Matthias. He recovered quickly and obeyed silently.

Two perfectly arranged plates, one a full breakfast, the other a light porridge, were brought for Veyr and Lioren. The rich smell of buttered toast and fresh eggs filled the room, curling into the silence.