Ethelrina looked at the desserts the four girls had placed on the table and smiled warmly.
“They all look delicious. Well done.”
Flora, Sophia, and Veronica beamed at Ethelrina’s praise, their moods lifting.
Only Lillian, with her dark red eyes, shrank back half a step behind the others, radiating self-doubt.
Flora, Sophia, and Veronica’s eyes sparkled with anticipation, eagerly awaiting Ethelrina’s tasting and judgment of their desserts.
Lillian, however, hung her head, her fingers nervously twisting the folds of her skirt, her lack of confidence painfully evident.
When she placed her pineapple buns on the table, she glanced at the others’ exquisite creations.
Compared to their polished desserts, her slightly burnt, unevenly latticed buns looked pitiful, lacking in color, aroma, and appeal. Her heart sank.
Ethelrina, noticing the three girls lingering, asked softly, “Are you just going to stand there?”
Her words snapped them out of their daze. Standing around like that practically screamed their desire for her approval.
As they moved to sit, a new issue arose: who would claim the two spots beside Ethelrina?
The air grew tense. Each girl wanted to sit next to her, sparking another silent battle.
Ian, quick to sense the situation, saw an opportunity.
Even if Lillian’s buns weren’t visually impressive, sitting beside Ethelrina could be a small victory.
As Ethelrina’s words settled, the room fell quiet. Before Flora, Sophia, or Veronica could speak, Ian interjected, “Let Lillian choose her seat first. It’s her house, after all.”
Flora opened her mouth to protest but stopped, unable to find a good counterargument. They were, indeed, in Lillian’s villa.
Sophia and Veronica’s faces fell. If Lillian picked first, they’d be left vying for the remaining spot.
Lillian, hearing Ian’s suggestion, lowered her head further, her pale fingers clutching her skirt tightly. She shook her head frantically.
“No, no, it’s fine. Let them choose.”
Her words lit a spark in Flora, Sophia, and Veronica’s eyes. Three people competing for two spots was better odds than fighting for one.
Flora, seizing the moment, leaned on her cane and swiftly claimed the seat to Ethelrina’s right before the others could react.
“Damn it, that elf beat us to it,” Veronica muttered inwardly.
She and Sophia then lunged for the left seat, racing to secure it.
Ian watched Lillian’s dejected posture, his eyes flashing with frustration. Come on, Lillian, step up.
In the end, Veronica won the left seat, with Sophia settling beside her.
Lillian, seeing everyone seated, shuffled to a sofa far from Ethelrina’s group.
Ethelrina, observing Lillian’s isolation, didn’t comment. She assumed Lillian preferred sitting alone, away from the crowd.
“Try mine,” Flora said, setting her cane aside. She cut a small piece of her pandan coconut roll with a silver fork and offered it to Ethelrina.
Ethelrina parted her lips, tasting it. “The crisp coconut and soft filling balance perfectly. It’s delicious.”
Flora’s face lit up with a radiant smile, basking in the praise.
Veronica and Sophia, hearing Ethelrina’s review, hurriedly offered their own desserts—red velvet cake and strawberry cake—for her to taste.
The lively scene contrasted sharply with Lillian, curled up alone in the corner of the sofa.
Lillian stared at her slightly charred pineapple buns and decided to try one herself. She cut a small piece with her fork and placed it in her mouth.
A bitter, burnt taste flooded her senses, making her wince. Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she thought, I messed up again.
She couldn’t count how many times she’d failed in her life—too many to track.
Before meeting Ian, it was the same. When the Saintess Family took her in, they poured resources into her training, yet she couldn’t pass the first Saintess trial.
This morning, Ian had taught her how to make pineapple buns, patiently guiding her multiple times, but she still produced this mess.
That afternoon, Ian had given her a chance to be alone with Ethelrina, yet she barely spoke to her.
I’m just a clumsy idiot who can’t learn anything or do anything right. Even getting into Saint Roland was thanks to my family’s influence.
Her bloodline development was stuck at a measly 3%, unmoving.
The weakest among those surrounding Ethelrina was Veronica, with a 9% bloodline development.
And Veronica could’ve surpassed 10% long ago but chose not to, rejecting past Saintesses’ approval to wait for the Goddess’s recognition, aiming for ultimate power.
Lillian buried her head deeper, tears welling in her dark red eyes. She fought not to cry, remembering her promise to someone not to shed tears again.
“I swore I wouldn’t cry anymore, so why can’t I stop?”
She hid her face, unwilling to let anyone see her like this, as memories of a silver dragon girl who once saved her flashed through her mind.
She and Veronica had been fleeing demons when they were nearly caught. A silver dragon descended from the sky, rescuing them from certain death.
“Why are you sitting here alone?” a male voice asked, startlingly close.
Lillian’s voice trembled with a hint of a sob. “N-Nothing.”
Ian, hearing her shaky tone, was baffled. I haven’t even said anything, and she’s crying?
“Are you crying?” he asked cautiously.
His words struck a nerve. “I’m not crying!” Lillian snapped, defiant.
Ian, sensing her odd state, spoke carefully. “If you’re not crying, look up at me.”
To prove herself, Lillian shakily raised her head, tear tracks still visible at the corners of her eyes.
As she met Ian’s gaze, something strange happened—his face inexplicably overlapped with her memory of the silver dragon girl who saved her.
