Cyrus slowly raised his hand, his hesitation palpable in the air. He knocked lightly on the door, as if feeling the pulse of the house. Heavy moments passed without a response, as though the place had lost its voice. He took a deep breath and knocked again, this time with more force, his fingers trembling slightly with each knock. Yet, the answer was the same: an eerie silence.

He leaned his head against the cold wood, his eyes closed, while his ears picked up faint sounds seeping from inside. Hesitant whispers, footsteps so soft they were almost imperceptible, but real enough to tell him that they were there, listening to him, but not approaching. This wasn't new to him; he had been through this scenario many times before.

With a deep sigh, he stepped back from the door and sat on the step. His eyes were vacant, staring into nothingness, as if he had grown used to this long wait, this repeated disregard.

Beside him sat Gluttony, poking Cyrus's cheek like a restless child. His eyes burned with hunger as he insisted, "I'm hungry, Cyrus... so hungry. When are we going to eat?" Saliva slowly dripped from the corner of his mouth.

On the nearby grass, Logic sat quietly, leaning back as if observing a familiar scene. His eyes carefully followed Cyrus. In a calm voice, he said, "Don't worry, Cyrus, we will eat in the end. Have we ever gone to bed hungry? Remember, after all, we are the son of the village chief."

Behind Logic, Doubt crept in lightly, placing his palm gently on Logic's shoulder. A wide grin stretched across his face, his eyes gleaming with mischievous delight. His smooth voice flowed softly, as if gently teasing the senses: "Oh, dear Logic, your hopes are so high, and that's not necessarily a bad thing, but..."

Logic didn't give his words a chance to sink in. His eyes flared with sharp disdain as he turned aside and spat on the ground.

Doubt's smile didn't waver, as if he had expected this reaction all along. He withdrew his hand gracefully, his steps calm and measured as he moved towards Cyrus. Once he reached him, he sat on a lower step, leaning his back against Cyrus's chest.

With his head tilted slightly back and his eyes glimmering with mockery, he cast his gaze towards Logic and said, "Could it be that a few weeks have made you forget how you were sprawled out like a carcass in the back garden?"

Logic, seated on the grass, averted his gaze from Doubt, deliberately avoiding the question.

But suddenly, movement in front of him made him look up. From nowhere, a figure began to take shape—an angry specter forming into the likeness of Cyrus. When it was complete, it stood with one hand covering its right eye, the other gripping its shirt so tightly it nearly tore. Its left eye glared at Logic, bloodshot with rage.

"Oh, Anger! Where have you been, man? I've missed you!" Doubt exclaimed cheerfully, his grin widening as though welcoming an old friend.

Logic remained still, his eyes fixed and unblinking, silently watching Anger.

Anger, meanwhile, dug his fingers into his face, leaving jagged red lines in their wake. Blood slowly trickled down, following the path carved by his sharp nails.

Suddenly, Anger erupted in Logic's face, his voice filled with hatred: "Do you remember? How we were tossed aside like a rotten carcass, calling out in despair, our voices fading with the cold wind, while they walked past us, their blind eyes refusing to acknowledge our existence."

Fear clung to Cyrus's back, his body curling as if trying to shrink out of sight. His pale fingers, frozen with terror, gripped his shirt, and his anxious eyes darted nervously between Anger and Logic, unable to settle.

Anger took a deep breath, regaining his composure, and continued, his voice laced with unmistakable bitterness: "For ten hours... for ten cursed hours, we lay there with broken legs. And when they finally turned their eyes toward us, all we saw was cold indifference. They literally dragged us into the mansion, until that maid saw us... unlike them, there was something in her eyes—pity. She pushed them away before carrying us to our room."

From a distance, Doubt's voice chimed in: "Alyssa... her name was Alyssa."

But Anger didn't turn, his eyes locked on Logic, his voice dropping to a whisper, heavy with bitterness: "I don't care what her damn name was. After they threw us on the bed, they didn't even bother to call the doctor. Why? Because the bastard doctor was busy… with Nikos, who was dizzy from playing too much!"

Anger's face froze, his eyes blazing with hatred, his voice thick with contempt: "Tell me... how can you forget? How can you find even a shred of hope for those animals?"

Logic tried to move his lips, perhaps to say something, but everyone had already turned away. Even Cyrus, who had been silently listening, turned his face aside.

Beside Cyrus, Gluttony grew more insistent, poking him repeatedly on the cheek like an impatient child. His voice grew more demanding, echoing around them: "Cyrus... Cyrus... hey, can't you hear me? I'm hungry! Cyrus… Cyrus..." But Cyrus didn't respond, his eyes fixed on the door.

In the luxurious dining room, the dark wooden floor gleamed under the feet of the servants, reflecting the soft light of the crystal chandelier gently hanging from the ceiling. At the center of the room, the large table stretched out, its white marble surface shining with a cold elegance, surrounded by plush gray velvet chairs, inviting anyone who sat in them to rest.

With fluid movements, the servants approached, their hands carefully balanced as they placed fine porcelain dishes on the table, as if they were painting a masterpiece. Glasses were quietly filled with fresh juices, and every detail came together with subtle smiles lighting the faces of the servants, who moved as if they were part of the elegant scene itself.

Alexander sat at the head of the table, his back straight and his hands poised elegantly. He carefully unfolded the napkin and placed it over his chest before picking up the fork and knife with ritualistic precision, beginning to slice the food in front of him. Every bite was taken with deliberate slowness, as though each morsel deserved to be savored. His eyebrows lifted slightly with each chew, his features showing subtle signs of quiet satisfaction.

But suddenly, his hand slowed, the fork pausing midway. He raised his gaze slowly, first to his right, where Andromeda sat, her eyes fixed on the door, her brow furrowed with visible tension, as if she were waiting for someone. Then he turned to his left, finding Nikos lost in thought, his eyes staring blankly at the plates in front of him, seemingly detached from the scene around him.

With a clear sign of irritation, Alexander's lips tightened before the knife clanged sharply against the fork, the metallic sound slicing through the silence. Heads immediately turned toward him, and the tension crept into the atmosphere. After a moment of cutting silence, he spoke: "What's wrong? Why aren't you eating? Is the food not to your liking?"

As soon as Alexander's words cut through the silence, Nikos's hand trembled for a moment, as if it had lost its balance. He hastily grabbed the napkin, the quick movement causing it to flutter awkwardly before he clumsily placed it over his chest. His trembling hand gripped the fork and knife, and he began cutting his food with shaky, erratic motions, the fork making a faint scraping sound each time it touched the plate. He lifted a piece of food toward his mouth, but just before he could take a bite, his eyes froze for a moment, catching a slight movement from the corner of his eye.

With unnerving calm, Alexander pointed his knife toward Nikos's chest and said flatly, "The napkin."

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A nervous laugh slipped from Nikos's lips, and he quickly adjusted the napkin with more care this time, as if each fold carried some importance. Once Alexander noticed the napkin was properly in place, a cold smile spread across his face, and he gave a slight nod.

Andromeda glanced at Nikos, concern clear in her eyes. Her voice was hesitant as she asked, "Nikos, Ciro was with you... why didn't he come home with you?"

Nikos opened his mouth to speak: "Cyrus..." but he suddenly stopped, silenced by a sharp look from Alexander.

Andromeda noticed what had happened and shifted her attention to Alexander, asking, "Alexander, where is Ciro?"

Alexander barely lifted his eyes from his food and simply replied, "How should I know?" before taking another bite.

Andromeda stood up, the chair scraping against the floor as she said, "The sun has already set... I need to go find him."

Alexander, after taking a sip of the aged berry wine, responded with indifference, glancing at her, "It's his fault. He'll be punished when he returns, so leave him be and sit back down."

Andromeda hesitated for a moment, then looked at Nikos, who was clearly avoiding her gaze. With growing concern, she pressed him again, "Nikos... where is your brother?"

Nikos glanced once more toward Alexander before replying hesitantly, "I... I don't know."

Alexander set his glass down on the table with a clear sound and said, "He's answered you, now leave him alone and sit down."

But before he could finish his sentence, Andromeda's sharp voice cut through the air: "Don't lie to me! Where is your brother?"

Nikos trembled, his hand instinctively rising to cover his mouth as he whispered, "In front of the house..." His eyes were locked on Alexander, who merely sighed and brought the glass back to his lips.

Andromeda bit her lip hard, her voice barely audible as she muttered, "You tyrant..."

Alexander raised an eyebrow and asked, "What did you say?"

With tears welling up in her eyes, she responded angrily, "You filthy... cruel tyrant."

Alexander's expression froze. He took a deep breath before replying, his voice laced with restrained anger, "Watch your words."

Andromeda, her eyes blazing with long-suppressed fury, shouted at him: "I won't stay silent any longer! Damn your arrogance and blind pride, the very things that drive you to abandon your own flesh and blood."

She looked at the table, overflowing with food, yet to her, it seemed completely empty: "I won't take a single bite until Ciro comes and eats with us. We are a family. Why is that so hard for you to understand?"

Alexander's fists slammed onto the table with such force that the plates and glasses rattled. He stood up, his shoulders tense, the veins in his neck bulging, and his voice exploded as he pointed a finger at her: "Family?!" His face twisted with anger. "Don't you dare associate my noble name with a pig like him!"

Andromeda could no longer hold back her tears, but her voice remained steady: "For God's sake, Alexander... you're his father, show him some mercy." She pleaded desperately. "It's not Ciro's fault he was born the son of that cursed traitor, Xenon."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned her back on him, her steps firm as she headed toward the door. Her voice remained composed despite the tears: "I'm going to bring him back."

Alexander ripped the napkin from his chest with a sharp motion, tossing it aside without a glance. He strode toward Andromeda with heavy steps that echoed through the room until he stood before her, grabbing her wrist forcefully. He lifted it up, making her face him, and said in a low voice, strained with anger: "And what does that whore have to do with it?" — referring to Xenon's connection to Cyrus.

His eyes bore into hers, his expression rigid, and his grip on her wrist tightened. "Your cursed son... why wasn't he born as a symbol of strength and security? Why is he nothing but an obstacle to his brother? Why isn't he like him?"

His voice grew louder with each word, the veins in his neck bulging with every syllable that escaped his mouth. "The fault of that loser is that he was born a pig! No, even a pig is more honorable than him!" His voice boomed through the room as his fingers dug deeper into her wrist. "That's why I gave him a name that suits him... so call him by his cursed name, Cyrus."

Andromeda tried to speak, but her words were choked in the air as he swiftly placed his hand over her mouth, preventing her from uttering a single word. His voice, now quieter, carried a chilling and dangerous tone: "Didn't I warn you about interacting with him?" He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to her. "If you say one more word, swear... I'll go out there and tear his throat out myself. I've only kept him alive for your sake, so don't push me."

He released her slowly, then shoved her toward the chair. "Sit down... and shut up."

Alexander returned to his chair with heavy steps, turning toward the frozen servants, his eyes flashing with impatience. "What are you standing around for? Get back to work." His tone was sharp as a knife.

Without hesitation, the servants rushed to resume their duties.

Alexander calmly picked up a new napkin, folding it meticulously across his chest, his eyes never leaving Andromeda. She was seated now, trying to take a bite of her food, but each movement of her mouth was accompanied by a suppressed gasp.

Across from her, Nikos sat like a statue, his gaze fixed on the table. He ate with agonizing slowness, as if each bite took tremendous effort. His appetite was nonexistent, and all he could think about was escaping from this suffocating room, where even the air felt unbearably heavy.

When dinner finally ended, Alexander rose with deliberate heaviness, his footsteps echoing through the room as he left. The servants immediately began clearing the dishes and tidying the table, the clatter of utensils mingling with the oppressive silence. Andromeda remained seated, her eyes cast down on the table, filled with sorrow. After a few moments, she slowly lifted her gaze toward Nikos, who sat quietly, and in a low voice, she said, "Nikos, come to my room in a little while. I need to talk to you."

Nikos scratched his head hesitantly before nodding to her without uttering a word.

Later, he stood in front of his mother's door. He knocked lightly, almost ready to walk away, but her voice called from inside: "Come in."

He slowly opened the door to find Andromeda sitting by the window, pale, her eyes lost in the distant horizon.

"Nikos," she began in a quiet voice, a blend of sadness and tenderness woven into her tone. She didn't look at him, her gaze still fixed on the sky. "There's something I need you to understand."

"Your brother, Cyrus... no matter what your father says, he is part of us. Part of this family. He needs our protection and care." She finally turned to him, her eyes filled with pain. "You know how Alexander is—harsh, unyielding... and that won't change."

Nikos listened quietly, his eyes following his mother's lips as she spoke.

"Cyrus isn't guilty for what he is. What can he do about something he was born with?" Her words were calm, yet heavy with meaning. Her gaze slipped toward the horizon, then returned to settle on Nikos. "He needs protection and support. Your father… he will never understand this, but we… we have to."

Nikos was silent for a moment, then he lifted his eyes to her and asked softly, "What do you want me to do?"

Andromeda sighed and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. "I want you to be strong, to be your brother's pillar. Be his eyes when he can't see, his ears when he can't hear, and his heart when he needs someone who understands. Don't let your father's harshness corrupt what's inside you."

Nikos hesitated for a moment before taking her hand and looking directly into her eyes. "Mother, I love you, and I love Father, and my love for my brother is no less. I promise… I'll protect him with everything I have."

A faint smile appeared on Andromeda's face. "I know, my son. I've always seen that in you. Now, go check on him and take some food with you."

At the door, Cyrus sat quietly, but this time Gluttony wasn't content with just poking. His fist was gently tapping Cyrus's face over and over, calling his name with growing madness.

Despite the light sting on his cheeks, Cyrus remained patient, his gaze fixed on the door, waiting in silence. As time passed, his eyelids grew heavier, his eyes gleaming with drowsiness. Just before he drifted off completely, a faint sound broke the stillness. The door slowly creaked open, and Nikos appeared, his features sleepy, eyes half-closed, carrying a plate in his hands.

With quiet steps, Nikos approached, a tired smile barely touching his lips. He sat beside Cyrus and placed the plate on Cyrus's lap without a word.

Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, Gluttony leaped up, his eyes alight with excitement, his voice rising, "Foooood!"

While his eyes were fixated on the plate, Cyrus felt a light weight on his shoulder. Nikos, without a word, had leaned his head against him, resting quietly.

Cyrus turned to him, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. Why was he doing this? It was true that Nikos had always been physically affectionate, but Cyrus had never fully understood the reason behind it.

Beside him, Doubt whispered, "Don't you see? He's always clinging to you. Be careful of him."

Logic responded with a tone of disgust, as if addressing familiar nonsense, "It's just brotherly love, you idiot."

But Cyrus found himself lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to untangle the meaning of Nikos's actions. He didn't have much time to dwell on it, as Gluttony's stern voice interrupted, "Cyrus, if you don't start eating now, I swear I'll slap you with everything I've got."

Startled, Cyrus quickly turned his attention to the food, confused. He shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside, and grabbed the fork to begin eating, ignoring Nikos's head still resting on his shoulder.

Nikos, for his part, didn't move. His eyes remained fixed on Cyrus as he ate, the faint smile still on his face. The longer Cyrus felt Nikos's gaze on him, the more uncomfortable he became. Why was he staring at him like that? Those strange thoughts began knocking at his mind again. With a swift motion, Cyrus shifted the plate to the other side, away from Nikos, and continued eating in silence, pointedly ignoring him.