Inside, Clara clutched the porcelain bowl as her body trembled. Through the haze of pain, she saw something unsettling come out from her. There were streaks of blood mixed with unidentifiable fragments of flesh. Her limbs throbbed with a twisted ache and cold sweat broke out across her forehead.
As a result of drinking the wine, the damage from her death was becoming impossible to hide. Blood seeped through her pant leg and dripped onto the floor.
With great effort, she stood up and adjusted her clothes to smooth out any visible wrinkles. As she stared at the ghostly pale reflection in the mirror, she let out a bitter chuckle.
Should she consider herself lucky? Since her black outfit managed to conceal the blood well enough.
After she composed herself, she opened the door to slip in without the crowd noticing. However, as soon as she looked up, she was met with Ian's piercing gaze.
For a brief moment, she wondered if he was actually worried about her. A trace of hesitation flickered in her eyes before she decided to be honest and told him, "I feel terrible. May I be an excuse to go upstairs to rest?"
She thought it was a simple request, one that needed no explanation.
Unfortunately, Ian’s expression darkened further, his voice laced with anger. "I thought you had finally learned some manners when you apologized earlier for your inappropriate attire. However, in the end, you’re still causing trouble on purpose as you usually did. Did you refuse to drink Rea's toast just to embarrass her?"
Clara froze and the pain in her chest intensified even more. For a second, she couldn’t even tell if it was her broken body or his words that hurt her more. She forced a smile and tried to explain, "I do feel unwell."
"I don’t care if you’re truly sick or just pretending," he cut her off coldly. "Rea offered you a drink. You will finish it."
Without giving her a chance to refuse, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back toward Rea.
"Clara realized she was being rude earlier, so she came back to apologize with a toast," Ian announced, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Stunned, Clara looked up at him. Her gaze met his sharp, warning gaze.
Swallowing back the bitterness rising in her throat, she turned to the glass in her hand. A faint, resigned smile touched her lips as she slowly brought it to her lips and drank it all down.