Chapter 655: Try My Dish First!

"Make way! Make way!"

Just then, a new voice cut through the fog.

Isabelle pushed through the small crowd of maids that had gathered, her face etched with concern.

She took in the scene in an instant: Joy pale and limp in Carmela’s arms, blood on her chin, everyone gathered around in varying states of panic.

"What happened?" Isabelle asked, kneeling beside them. "What happened to Lady Joy?"

Maria answered, her voice shaking.

"We don’t know! She was fine one moment, and then—"

She gestured helplessly at her daughter.

"She just collapsed! Coughed up blood. She won’t respond to anything."

Isabelle’s brow furrowed. She pressed two fingers to Joy’s wrist, checking her pulse, then gently lifted one of her eyelids.

"This is serious." She murmured. "If only Lady Diana were here."

She looked up.

"But she’s not. I’ll go get Young Master. He’ll know what to do."

She rose and began to turn—

"NO."

The word cut through the air like a blade.

Everyone froze.

Joy’s eyes snapped open.

She was still pale. Still weak. But something had kindled in her gaze—a fierce, desperate fire that hadn’t been there moments ago.

"No." She repeated, her voice rough but firm. "Don’t bring Cassius."

Isabelle blinked. "But Lady Joy, you’re—"

Joy pushed herself up.

Carmela tried to hold her down, but Joy shook her off.

With visible effort—with sheer, stubborn willpower—she straightened her back and rose to her feet.

Everyone stared.

She stood there, swaying slightly, pale as death, with blood still smeared on her chin. And yet she stood.

"There’s no need." Joy said, her voice steady despite everything. "I’m fine."

Maria reached for her. "Joy, you’re not—"

"I said I’m fine."

Joy held up a hand, cutting off all protests. Her eyes met Isabelle’s, and there was something almost pleading in them beneath the steel.

"Please...Don’t bring him here."

She couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t articulate the chaos inside her.

But she knew with absolute certainty that she could not face Cassius right now.

Not like this. Not weak and broken and bleeding, with her entire worldview in shambles.

The thought of him seeing her like this—

Of those knowing eyes looking down at her with pity or concern or worse—

She would rather die.

She turned to Aqua, who was still staring at her with wide, bewildered eyes.

"Water."

Aqua blinked. "What?"

"Give me water." Joy’s voice was clipped, commanding.

The voice of a commander used to being obeyed.

"I don’t have any water." Aqua said dumbly. "We’d have to go inside—"

"Your name is literally Aqua." Joy’s eye twitched. "How could you not have water? Use your magic."

Aqua’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

Then, with a wave of her hand, she conjured a perfect sphere of crystalline water, floating in the air before Joy.

Joy reached out, cupping her hands beneath the sphere.

She splashed the cool liquid onto her face, washing away the tears she hadn’t realized were falling.

Then she brought more to her mouth, gargling and spitting until every trace of blood was gone.

From her pocket, she produced a handkerchief and dabbed her face dry.

When she looked up again, she was Joy.

The same Joy as always. Composed. Controlled.

She then turned to face the stunned group.

"See?" She said flatly. "I’m fine. There’s no need to worry."

She wiped the last trace of moisture from her chin with the back of her hand.

"It’s just a minor mana backflow. My previous injuries haven’t fully healed, and sometimes the energy channels destabilize. It causes a cough, maybe a little blood, but it’s nothing serious."

She shrugged, as if discussing the weather.

"It’ll pass on its own. No big deal."

No one moved.

No one spoke.

They just stared at her.

Because it was obvious—painfully, achingly obvious that something far more serious had just occurred.

And it was equally obvious that the moment Cassius’s name had been mentioned, Joy had forced herself to be alright.

She had pushed through whatever was happening to her body simply to avoid appearing weak in front of him.

Joy saw the disbelief in their eyes.

She saw the questions forming on their lips, especially her mother’s.

Maria looked like she was about to burst with concern and interrogation.

But Joy couldn’t handle that.

Not now.

Not with everything still so raw and broken inside her.

So she did what she always did when faced with overwhelming emotion—she deflected.

She turned away from them, walking toward the garden path as if nothing had happened.

"I want to meet with my sisters." She announced casually. "See if they have anything to report from today’s activities."

But then she stopped, glancing around the area with a slight frown.

"Speaking of which—where’s Stella? Normally she’d be here to greet me by now. It’s strange that she’s not around."

The moment the words left her mouth, Isabelle’s face went pale.

She moved quickly—too quickly—positioning herself directly in Joy’s path with an awkward, strained smile.

"Perhaps—perhaps it would be better if you went inside first, Lady Joy."

She said, her voice slightly too high.

"Just to rest for a moment. I can send the sisters to you later. I don’t think it’s best for you to be outside right now."

Joy’s eyes narrowed.

She knew that tone. Knew that expression. Isabelle was hiding something.

"Why are you standing in my way, Isabelle?"

Joy asked, her voice dropping to something quieter, more dangerous.

"Is there something happening that I shouldn’t know about? Something you’re trying to hide?"

Isabelle shook her head with desperate innocence.

"Nothing! Nothing at all!"

She turned to the other maids who had gathered nearby.

"Isn’t that right? Nothing’s happening, right?"

The maids nodded vigorously.

"Nothing happening!"

"Absolutely nothing!"

"All quiet here!"

One maid, slightly slower than the others, added helpfully,

"You definitely don’t need to go to the backyard! You won’t find anything there at all!"

The other maids groaned.

Isabelle closed her eyes in defeat.

Joy’s suspicion crystallized into certainty.

Without another word, she changed direction, heading toward the backyard with determined strides.

Isabelle scrambled after her.

"Lady Joy, please, there’s really no need—"

Joy ignored her.

Behind them, Carmela, Aqua, and Maria exchanged glances before following.

Curiosity had been sparked, and none of them were about to miss whatever was about to unfold.

The group wound their way through the garden paths until they reached the edge of the backyard.

And then—

They stopped.

Every single one of them froze in place.

The backyard opened before them—a beautiful garden of carefully manicured hedges, blooming flowers, and winding stone paths.

In the center, beneath a gracefully arching trellis covered in climbing roses, sat a cluster of garden chairs.

Cassius occupied one of them, reclined in a posture of peaceful surrender.

On his lap sat Vivi, happily munching on something from a small plate she held, occasionally offering bits to Cassius with glee.

That alone would have been a sweet, wholesome scene.

But that wasn’t what had stunned them all into silence.

Surrounding Cassius—completely surrounding him, packed in like sardines were Joy’s sisters.

All of them.

Every single Sister who was supposed to be investigating Cassius, watching his every move, searching for evidence of his demonic nature.

The very same cold, efficient, feared operatives who struck terror into the hearts of criminals across the kingdom.

But weren’t investigating right now.

They weren’t watching.

They were feeding him.

Each sister held a plate in one hand and a spoon in the other.

Multiple spoons were being thrust toward Cassius’s face from every direction, each sister vying for his attention, each desperate for him to taste their particular dish.

"Young Master, please try mine!" One sister cooed, pushing her spoon forward. "I spent hours on this recipe!"

"No, no, try mine first!" Another insisted, shouldering her way closer. "It’s my mother’s secret recipe—passed down through generations!"

"Don’t listen to her." A third scoffed. "I’ve tasted her cooking and it’s absolutely garbage. She’s trying to poison you, Young Master!"

"A pot calling a kettle black! You’re the one with terrible cooking! Everyone knows your dishes taste like cardboard!"

While they argued, the others simply took advantage of the distraction to shove their spoons closer.

"Please, Young Master, just one bite!"

"Try mine! Mine is the best!"

"Over here, over here!"

Cassius looked utterly overwhelmed.

His head was turning back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match, trying to track all the spoons being aimed at him.

He attempted to sample each one, clearly not wanting to offend anyone, but there were simply too many.

"Ladies, please."

He managed, holding up his hands in surrender.

"I’m just one man with one mouth. I physically cannot eat all these spoons at the same time."

"Could we perhaps...pace ourselves?"

But Vivi, still perched on his lap, looked up at him with an adorable pout.

"That’s quite rude, Young Master." She said primly. "They went out of their way to make these dishes for you. And here you are refusing them."

She patted his chest with a tiny hand.

"You better eat it all."

The sisters erupted in renewed enthusiasm.

"Lady Vivi is right!"

"Such a wise girl!"

"Please, Young Master, just a taste!"

"Try mine! Mine! Mine!"

Spoons converged on Cassius’s face from all angles.

It was chaos.

It was madness.

It was a scene of grandmothers trying to stuff their grandchildren with food, multiplied by twenty and starring the most feared operative squad in the kingdom.

Meanwhile, Joy stood at the edge of this spectacle, her face cycling through expressions no one had ever seen on her before.

Shock.

Disbelief.

Horror as she watched her sisters, her loyal, dedicated sisters, reduced to a pack of love-struck cooks fighting over who got to feed the man they were supposed to be investigating.