Betty wept softly against Pandora’s chest.
From Pandora, she felt not the usual cold indifference of the Viscount and other nobles, but a heartfelt concern and tenderness she’d never experienced from those in positions of power.
She lifted her tear-blurred eyes, gazing at Pandora, and said with a choke, “My Lady… thank you… You’re still the sa as before…”
Pandora offered a faint smile and didn’t respond.
Tis had changed.
She couldn’t be the sa as before.
It was impossible for her to be that person again.
Pandora shifted her gaze, eting Elsa’s eyes at the door.
Elsa’s eyes were cold and sharp, the sword in her hand rising slightly.
Pandora understood the question in Elsa’s gaze.
She was silent for a mont, her gaze fixed on the “brother” who had lost all human reason, left with only the instincts of a beast, and then at the trembling, trusting Betty in her arms.
Finally, she gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
However,
at the sa ti, she made a small gesture.
Seeing this, Elsa, who had been about to raise her sword, lowered it.
The killing was inevitable.
She couldn’t allow such a danger to continue existing.
But she didn’t need to act in front of Betty.
There would be other opportunities. A mindless, walking corpse tied tightly to a chair was hardly a threat to her now.
After a brief silence, Betty seed to rember sothing. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and asked, her voice thick with crying, “My Lady, you… you ca to the kitchen for, for food and water?”
Pandora nodded. “We haven’t eaten all night. Besides that, we’ll need to prepare so rations and drinking water before we head into the town to find my father.”
“Oh! I know about that!”
A glint of light appeared in Betty’s eyes, as if she had finally found a task she was capable of, temporarily warding off her sorrow and fear. “There’s hard-baked bread in the pantry, and so cured jerky, and there are waterskins, too. I… I’ll go get them right away! My Lady, you and Lady Elsa can rest for a mont!”
She started to get up.
“Wait,” Pandora said, looking at the slow-to-react little kitchen maid and smiling helplessly as she stopped her. “Betty, you just had a terrible shock. Take a mont to recover. Besides… we haven’t had breakfast yet. Why don’t you make us sothing simple? We have enough ti.”
Betty was stunned for a mont, then nodded vigorously.
“Y-yes, My Lady, please have a seat. I’ll prepare it right away!”
The words were barely out of her mouth before she was bustling about.
Pandora didn’t say more, choosing a relatively clean bench in the kitchen to sit on, far from the tied-up Andrew.
Elsa moved silently to a position slightly behind and to the side of Pandora.
Like an alert guard, her unwavering gaze swept every corner of the kitchen—or more precisely, it was mainly focused on the busy Betty.
Andrew, tied to the chair, twisted and struggled mindlessly, his throat still letting out intermittent gurgles, the sound becoming the kitchen’s background noise.
Ti passed in a heavy silence.
Betty’s movents were a bit clumsy, but she eventually brought out a simple breakfast: a few thick slices of toasted bread, a small dish of cream, and three glasses of clear water.
“My Lady… Lady Elsa… please eat…”
Betty placed the food on the long table before Pandora, then habitually took two steps back, standing with her hands clasped.
Watching her, Pandora suddenly spoke.
“Betty, sit down. Eat with us.”
Betty looked up, her small face full of surprise and confusion.
“Ah? My Lady… this… this isn’t proper…”
“Proper?” Pandora picked up a slice of bread and gestured toward the door, shaking her head slightly. “Betty, look around. Look outside. The manor’s rules don’t exist anymore. Right now, there are only three people here who want to live.”
She paused, looking at Elsa. “Elsa, you sit and eat with us.”
“Yes, My Lady.”
Elsa didn’t hesitate, sitting down obediently on the bench beside Pandora, her movents as natural as if she’d always done it.
Betty looked at Elsa, then at Pandora, her small face a canvas of confusion and conflict. She had grown up under a strict class system, a concept deeply ingrained in her. My Lady Pandora was a noble, the master. Betty was the daughter of a cook, a servant. Eating at the sa table? It was sothing she’d never even dared to imagine.
“Betty,” Pandora’s voice grew a little gentler, carrying a comforting strength. “Sit down. Elsa is sitting, isn’t she? Right now, we all want to live. To live, we have to learn to conserve our strength. We can’t waste energy on pointless formalities.”
Perhaps it was Elsa’s compliance that gave her courage, or perhaps the genuine warmth in Pandora’s eyes that reassured her. Finally, timidly, Betty shuffled to the other side of the table and carefully sat down.
Just as she began to relax…
“Betty.”
Elsa’s icy voice suddenly cut through the fragile peace that had just been established at the table.
Betty’s body jerked. She instinctively looked at Elsa. Those eyes, glowing with a strange red light, were fixed on her with the sharpness of a blade, especially on her left arm, which she was deliberately keeping hidden under the table.
“Roll up your left sleeve.”
Elsa’s tone had no fluctuation, and her expression didn’t change.
“Wh… what sleeve? Lady Elsa… what are you talking about?”
Betty’s voice changed, a clear tremor entering it. Her eyes darted around in a panic, her right hand instinctively covering her left arm. She looked to Pandora for help, but her mistress gave no reaction, simply spreading cream on a piece of bread.
Elsa’s gaze didn’t waver in the slightest. She slowly rose to her feet, looking down at Betty, her voice growing colder and clearer. “I’ve been watching you since you started cooking. Your left arm’s movents are stiff and uncoordinated. You’ve deliberately used your body to block it, always avoiding rolling up that sleeve, even when it hindered your work. Betty, you’re not an assassin with no need to hide a weapon. So, what are you hiding?”
Elsa’s analysis landed on Betty’s heart like a series of heavy blows.
Her face instantly turned pale. Her gaze toward Pandora was even more helpless, her eyes full of pleading.
The benevolent mistress finally looked up, responding to her.
But it wasn’t the response she had hoped for.
Pandora’s expression was exceptionally serious now. She even set down the bread in her hand.
“Betty.”
Pandora’s voice lowered, taking on a rare but unquestionable authority. “You want to live. We all do. So… tell the truth.”
The air seed to freeze.
Andrew’s low growls seed to grow even harsher.
Tears welled in Betty’s eyes again, falling in large drops.
She knew she couldn’t hide it anymore.
Under the discerning gazes of Pandora and Elsa, all her defenses seed pale and powerless.
Finally, trembling, she slowly, carefully, began to roll up the loose, coarse sleeve of her left arm…
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