5.

Dante was already sitting at the breakfast table the next morning. I thought he would sleep in.

But it's very apparent he was suffering from a hangover.

I walked into the room, curtsied before sitting down. As if his words yesterday did not affect me one bit, as if they did not pierce my heart. We always pretended as if the hurtful encounters after he was drunk never happened.

He leaned back on his chair, rubbing his temple with his fingers. "What happened in the gathering yesterday? You already received another invitation to a tea gathering. What a surprise."

"I did exactly as you told me to," I replied with eyes lowered. "I pretended to be your sister."

"My sister," he mused and then he chuckled harshly. "I have no idea what my sister looks like anymore." He eyed me with a weird look as if trying to look past me to find someone.

He must still be drunk. This temporary show of weakness was so unlike him. I poured a cup of hot tea and pushed it next to his hand.

His hand clasped around my wrist before I could withdraw my hand.

"My sister would never pour me tea. Nor pick up my clothes," he said with a wry smile.

Is that his way of telling me off? But I have done such things a few times in the past and he has never said a word. I thought that's what a sister would do for her brother. I thought that's exactly what his sister had done in the past.

"I will never do such things again," I said while giving him a quick glance, searching his face for any sorts of hints. And then remembered to lower my eyes again.

"No," he said after a long while as if making a decision. "Just do whatever you want." He then released my hand.

Whatever... I want? What does that mean?

I sat at the breakfast table, not knowing what to do next. Should I put strawberry jam on my toast or blueberry jam? Which jam did Scarlett prefer when she was alive? I thought I had been doing so well in the past few years, but his words just now meant he had just never cared to tell me the truth.

I heard a sigh.

"Lettie," he said. "Smile."

I smiled demurely on instinct. Something I was used to. It was an ingrained memory, just as my mother had trained me since I was small.

I gave Dante's face a quick glance. He looked at me with a bored expression.

I knew the next command was to cry, I was about to change my expression when Dante said, "Have your breakfast."

Tears were about to drop from my eyes when I heard this command. I looked at him with tears about to fall down from my eyes. I was so taken aback about this turn of event that I just followed his words. Without noticing, I was already putting a slice of toast with strawberry jam into my mouth.

Did Scarlett take her toast with strawberry jam?

"No one cares if you take your toast with strawberry or blueberry jam," he rolled his eyes. "You're no longer a thirteen year old. People change when they grow." He tapped my forehead with his finger once and then walked away.

"Where are you going?"

"I have the worst headache, I'm going back to my room," he gave me a tiny wave and then left the room.

Was that a smile I saw on his face? What was he smiling for?

6.

The door to Dante's room finally opened at two in the afternoon. He sauntered out of his room while pushing his light blond hair away from his face.

I walked over with a tray in my hand. There's a cup of hot tea with honey on the tray.

Standing next to him silently and offering him the tea.

He picked up the cup from the tray and took a sip.

"How do you know when I will leave my room?"

"I don't." I shook my head. "I waited over there." I pointed towards the corner next to his room. There was a chair positioned at the corner. I asked the servant to place a chair over there and to exchange the cold tea with a new cup every half an hour.

He raised his eyebrow. "From morning till now?"

I nodded. Did I do something wrong? When I was still living in the countryside, I never saw him this drunk. The nobles in the capital seemed to love drinking a lot. When my mother had been drunk and suffering from a hangover in the past, she had always ordered me to bring her a cup of hot tea with honey when she had woken from her nap.

"Why do you do this?"

Why? I pondered on the question. "Because you're Dante." I looked him in his eyes.

He stared at me as if he's contemplating the origin of this world and then he gulped down the remaining tea in his cup as if he was drinking wine.

"I'm going out." He placed the cup on my tray and then disappeared down the stairs with a wave.

Author's note

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