My apologies for the oversight. Here’s a corrected version of the passage:

There was no need for a response. The moment the tray touched her lap, Ariante looked at Meianna with sulky eyes and did exactly as she did, smearing honey on the bread and popping it into her mouth. She then ate a bite each of the egg and fish dishes without fuss, puffing her cheeks as she spoke.

“Stupid pig Meianna.”

Meianna clenched her molars. Her cheeks quivered as she struggled to hold in her laughter.

“I want to eat soup.”

“Yes, I’ll bring it right away. Will you eat quietly?”

“I also want more bread. You’ve already eaten half.”

Turning away, Meianna could no longer hold back her laughter.

“Understood, Your Highness. I’ll bring more bread. And more honey.”

From behind, the sounds of spoons and forks moving were audible. Meianna left the room, chuckling repeatedly.

‘Children will be children.’

In her past life, she had seen several teachers struggling with children who refused to eat. It was at the daycare run by her mother.

At such times, her mother would gather the children into a circle at mealtime. She would sit in the middle and eat first, making a fuss as Meianna had just done, as if playing with a fascinating new toy.

‘Well, there were still children who adamantly refused to eat…’

How fortunate Ariante was naive. Although she had asked an absurd question about whether she was a ‘pervert’ on the first day, deep down, she was just seven years old. A seven-year-old lacking the wit to be fooled by adults…

Meianna was about to enter the kitchen. Bentie, coming around the dining area’s corner, squinted at her.

“You!”

Bentie darted toward Meianna, as if ready to grab her by the sleeve. Meianna, however, remained still, looking at him as she spoke.

“I need to bring soup to Her Highness.”

“So what? You think that’s the issue? You dare—”

Meianna slapped Bentie’s outstretched hand as hard as she could. Clutching his smacked hand, flames seemed to burst from Bentie’s eyes.

“You’ve truly gone mad!”

“Bentie, I actually had something to say to you. I was planning to come to you after Her Highness had gone to sleep. It’s good we’ve met.”

“What… What did you say? You have something to say? Who do you think you are, you thieving wench?”

Meianna spoke.

“Leave your door open when the western lamp lights up at midnight. I’ll come to your room. If you truly want to know if I’m a thief, do as I say. Just don’t tell anyone. If you do, you’ll never find out who stole your precious button.”
In truth, anyone who happened upon Jocelyn’s room by accident couldn’t help but be surprised. The fact that she, who meddled in every affair as if she were another master of the duke’s house in Sedilroy’s absence, resided in a room nearly the size of a storeroom would astonish anyone.

Sedilroy had once offered her a private room appropriate for her rank, but Jocelyn had adamantly refused. She stubbornly insisted on the side room with the old bed and worn-out furniture.

At least the curtains and carpets were clean, as they were replaced with different materials every summer and winter.

Jocelyn walked over to the weathered window frame and looked outside. It was nearing evening, but the sun was still high. She saw a small gray bird fly among the branches of the tall alder tree. Because it was summer, the leaves were so green they seemed to sweat, and it felt like they would emit a pungent, fresh scent if touched.

Imagining this, Jocelyn suddenly felt nauseated from her stomach. The lush, wet leaves.

“[Look, Jocelyn. In the summer, the leaves plump up like this. Then they shrivel like an old person as winter approaches, ultimately becoming fallen leaves.]”
“[But Father, new leaves sprout in the spring, don’t they?]”
“[Exactly. Always remember that the Stafford family is just like these leaves. Once it ripens and withers, new leaves will sprout, and the Staffords must swear eternal loyalty to the Balderminster house.]”
“[Then, Your Grace… I mean, is the Balderminster duke’s house like a tree?]”
“[Yes. Though leaves may wither and sprout, pine needles will never grow from a birch. Also, a tree without abundant leaves is essentially a dying tree. Hence, the Stafford descendants must make sure the Balderminster tree keeps breathing forever. When the leaves need to wither, they must wither and disappear.]”

Her father’s words were deeply ingrained in Jocelyn, who was ten at the time. From then on, those words were not just a ‘duty as a loyal butler,’ but grew roots in her young mind, spreading branches and broadening leaves every day…

To Jocelyn, what her father had left behind became a self-evident truth of the world. As spring follows winter, as water flows from high to low, as the sun rises and sets, it became a self-evident axiom.

Her father, who had instilled this truth into her young mind, passed away six years later.

Jocelyn became a butler at the mere age of sixteen. Even though she hailed from a family of butlers, there were servants who found it distasteful to take orders from a sixteen-year-old girl.