Lioren kept his head low, observing everything without a word. His body was tense, but his face betrayed nothing. Panic clawed inside his chest, yet he forced calm upon himself. He had not spoken a word since he woke here. Silence and obedience were safer than speaking.

“Eat,” Meirei said suddenly, pushing the plate closer to him. His tone was firm, almost too sharp, and his gaze locked onto Lioren like a needle pinning him in place.

Before Lioren could move or respond, Leyla snapped at Meirei  "Are you crazy, Meirei? Look at him! He doesn't even know what's going on, and you're staring at him with that Psychotic expression, ordering him to eat? You're no different from Cyrin!"

Meirei frowned, his voice tight with restraint. "I wasn't doing anything. I told him to eat normally."

"Normally, my foot! Leyla’s voice shot up, shocked. "You looked like you were about to experiment on him!"

Lioren didn't bother much this time; it felt like he was getting used to them and the constant bickering in this house.

Sevren had already disappeared into his room to play games, while the servant stood patiently, waiting for further instructions. His mind, however, was already racing with thoughts of how best to spread the news about the arrival of an unfamiliar guest in Duskveil.

Then, out of nowhere, a sound cut through the room. Cyrin laughed.

The chuckle slipped out before he realized, sparked by Meirei's desperate attempt to pretend his way of offering food was perfectly normal, when even a child could have seen it wasn't.

By the time he realized, every face in the room had turned towards him. His smirk faltered under their collective stares, especially of Meirei's annoyed look, and he quickly leaned back in his chair, unbothered.

"What?" he muttered defensively.

Before anybody could reply, Veyr's voice cut in smooth, steady, and commanding. He spoke not to them, but to the servant waiting near the wall. "Bring the plate. I'll eat here."

The servant hesitated. His composure cracked just slightly, not enough to be dramatic, but enough to show the strangeness of his request. His eyes flicked to Veyr in subtle surprise before he obeyed. He placed the plate down carefully, almost too carefully, then bowed and stepped back.

“What?” Veyr shot the servant a piercing look. “Waiting to feed me with your hands? I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in eni...” Before Veyr could finish, Cyrin cut him off.

The servant's face flushed red in embarrassment, and he bowed to his masters and went back to his work.

"Wow. You're going to eat here? What happened to you eating alone whenever you felt like it? Don't you have your little rituals upstairs? Lost your little habits already?"

Veyr didn't even blink. His reply was immediate, almost comically serious.

"This is the ground floor. Which makes it almost public property in this house. And right now, it's my time. I get to decide the place."

"Public property? You know, Veyr, that audacious attitude of yours is what gets on my nerves whenever you open that little mouth of yours." Cyrin snapped

But through it all, Lioren couldn't look away from Veyr. His spoon hovered above the food, yet he couldn't make himself eat. Each time his gaze lifted, he found Veyr's eyes sliding back to him, unreadable, steady and suffocating. The weight of it makes the simple act of chewing feel impossible.

"Quit looking my way. Just eat your own damn food, you annoying jerk," Lioren muttered in his head.

For Lioren, the pressure built until his chest burned. His fingers tightened around the spoon. His heart hammered painfully.

Then, Leyla sighed and spoke with sudden firmness. "Enough, everyone out. Can't you see how uncomfortable you're making him? Let him eat in peace."

They groaned but didn’t argue. One by one, they filed out, their footsteps fading down the corridor. Even Leyla lingered for a moment before slipping out and closing the door softly behind her.

The silence that followed felt heavier than the noise.

Lioren sat staring at the food, his stomach twisting with both hunger and dread. Slowly, he stood up, holding the plate with both hands, and slipped into the washroom.

Inside, he tipped the plate over the toilet bowl. The food dropped with a muted splash. He flushed quickly, the sound too loud in the quiet, and stood there for a moment, breathing shallowly. His hands trembled as if he had just committed a crime.

"I'm sorry, but I… I've already paid the price for trusting before. Better to be cautious than regret it later," he muttered.