Someone was precisely Meyana. With a stern expression, the chef stirring the soup sighed.

“It’s the same meal as the Count’s. Isn’t it expected?”

Meyana spoke.

“Please serve the roasted fish on eggplant as is. But could you replace the bean sauce with another? Something a bit sweet would be nice.”

“Hey, what do you—”

The kitchen’s atmosphere froze even more under the threatening swing of the chef’s ladle-holding arm. Yet, Meyana stood her ground, arms crossed, as if refusing to budge until her request was met.

The chef, rolling up his sleeves, questioned.

“When will you stop being so picky? Huh? When my children were picky, they went hungry! Go hungry for a few days; let’s see if you say you don’t like it!”

“There’s no need to tell me how inhumanely you’ve raised your children. But don’t feel too hurt if your children don’t want to take care of you after you retire.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Do you think I would stand idly by while the princess only eats what she likes? She’s still young and has specific tastes, so let’s accommodate her bit by bit. I’ll take care of that part, so don’t worry. So please replace the bean sauce with something else for the princess. She loves figs, so add them to the salad; she’ll eat it well.”

Just then, the soup seemed to voice the chef’s inner turmoil as it began to boil. He quickly removed the firewood to lessen the flame, then expelled a furious breath through clenched teeth.

“Fine, fine. Just get out of my kitchen.”

“Thank you, chef.”

Meyana politely acknowledged, not uttering another word as she left the kitchen. Seeing her retreating figure, the chef felt more enraged, but instinctively realized it was best to accommodate her.

Moreover, even Sedilroy wasn’t dining today. Had he refused her, he could have been summoned before Sedilroy, only to face inevitable scolding.

“Damn!”

He cursed under his breath and took the soup pot off the flame.

At mealtime, Sedilroy had a small round table brought to the dining room instead of using the large banquet table. It was a first, so the servants obediently followed his orders, murmuring among themselves.

Jocelyn was nowhere to be seen. Furthermore, Sedilroy seemed indifferent to her illness.

“Take medicine and rest adequately.”

He only instructed Jemero to say that, without adding that a doctor should be called. It was quite different from his previous reactions when Jocelyn was sick.

The servants speculated whether Jocelyn had completely fallen out of favor with the Count and what could be the reason for it.

When Meyana descended to the dining room with Arianthe, she immediately sensed the odd stares and atmosphere surrounding her. She paid them no particular mind. She entered the dining room slowly and calmly, holding Arianthe’s hand.

“Father.”

Arianthe, already seated, greeted Sedilroy as she lightly spread the hem of her dress.

Sedilroy, with a neutral but soft expression, replied,

“You don’t need to be so formal, it’s just a meal with your father.”

Unexpectedly hearing this, Arianthe’s eyes widened, and she glanced briefly at Meyana. She then turned her head back to Sedilroy and hesitated before speaking.

“But I should still be respectful in front of Father.”

“Respect is due anywhere, but you don’t have to go to such lengths in front of your father.”
Ariante hesitated for a moment, cocking her head, then softly said, “Yes,” and sat down on the chair.

Meiyana, who had been listening to the conversation, showed no change in her expression, but internally she was imagining giving Sedilroy a good squeeze on the shoulder. If Sedilroy had known this, he would have felt wronged, but how could he know?

‘Is it that hard to support me more naturally!’

Meiyana thought.

Sedilroy had, of course, spoken out of consideration for Ariante. Meiyana knew this, but the way he conveyed his sincerity was incredibly stiff. Couldn’t he at least put on a smile or something…

Servants began bringing the two people’s meals to the table. Meiyana, standing behind Ariante, quickly glanced at the plates.

She wondered if the chef had been petty again, but fortunately everything was as she had requested. Ariante’s salad contained fig slices, sprinkled with a sauce mixed with nuts and honey.

“There are no figs in Father’s salad,”

Ariante said. Sedilroy looked down at his own plate, then at Ariante’s, and then spoke with a faint smile.

“It seems the chef considered your fondness for figs.”

“Consideration?”

Sedilroy, lost in thought for a moment, said,

“It means he took special care for you. Perhaps we should call him for praise.”

Now it was Ariante’s turn to ponder. She did not like the chef. Like all other household staff, the chef was not kind to Ariante.

He would deliberately serve her foods she disliked and ignore her requests for her favorite snacks. She had shown her temper several times, but Jocelyn always intervened, and nothing ever changed.

With her lips slightly pursed, Ariante said,

“Very well, Father.”

Sedilroy looked at Zemero.

“Go call the chef.”