In the annex, Astelle lingered in a cloud of gloom for several days, her spirits refusing to lift. Despite the marquis's earnest attempt to coax her into eating, the mere suggestion of food failed to entice her.
Seated together around the breakfast table were Astelle, Theor, and the marquis. An elaborate spread had been meticulously prepared—a tempting array of culinary delights awaited them. Eggs benedict gleamed invitingly, sweet crepes adorned the table, pancakes piled high with dollops of whipped cream beckoned, and a velvety soup infused with marjoram exuded comforting aromas.
However, Astelle's lack of appetite was palpable, evident in her steadfast refusal to partake in the feast. Theor, by her side, nibbled slowly on his own portion of crepes, concern etched across his face.
"Aunt Astelle, aren't you hungry?" Theor asked, his voice tinged with worry as he observed her reluctance to eat.
"I am not. Come on, Theor, you should eat more," Astelle responded softly, her attention shifting to ensuring Theor had his fill. With a gentle touch, she added more pancakes to Theor's plate, her own untouched.
Seated across from Theor, the Marquis regarded the young boy with a hint of concern. Since the ball, Astelle had been troubled by Kaizen's rejection of her plea to return Theor.
Her mind swirled with worry, pondering her next steps. The idea of bringing Theor to the capital filled her with unease. The risk loomed large—keeping Theor confined within a room all day wouldn't guarantee his safety. The uncertainty of what might transpire haunted her thoughts.
'Considering what Kaizen said, even if I go to the capital, I may not be able to send Theor off easily,' Astelle mused, weighing the options in her mind.
The thought of Kaizen's desire for Astelle to stay by his side weighed heavily on her mind. It presented a troubling and uncertain prospect that filled her with unease. She realized that if he compelled her, escape would be futile. The thought of taking Theor to the capital, knowing the potential consequences, grew increasingly unbearable.
'It's better not to take Theor to the capital if possible,' she concluded, contemplating the risks involved. Should she be apprehended, Astelle reasoned, it would be preferable to face the repercussions alone.
'But Kaizen wasn't even allowing me to send Theor back.'
The day following Astelle's unsuccessful request, her grandfather took matters into his own hands, seeking an audience with the emperor directly.
The Marquis of Carlenberg formally sought an audience with the Emperor, intending to plead for permission to return home with Theor. Astelle held a glimmer of hope that, given the gravity of the elderly man's request, Kaizen might consider granting it.
In her optimistic musings, Astelle envisioned her grandfather meeting the Emperor and appealing for this one favor. The incident at the ball, where Kaizen had impulsively refused her request in anger, seemed like a lapse in judgment. Now, with a clearer mind, Astelle speculated that Kaizen might reconsider.
Yet, even this modest hope was brutally dashed. Kaizen rejected her grandfather's plea for an audience, citing the restriction on private meetings due to a backlog of official work. The rationale behind the refusal left Astelle disheartened.
"It's really too much," she sighed, grappling with the disappointment that accompanied the realization that even a formal request through her grandfather had been summarily dismissed by the Emperor.
Astelle remained sequestered in the annex, fighting to suppress the burgeoning anger within her. Meanwhile, Theor, growing restless from the confinement, fidgeted with his teddy bear and inquired with an air of anticipation, "When are we going to the capital?"
