I Was the Hero, But She Turned Me Into the Villain

Chapter 31 - 30 : Family Dinner – part 2

In the hall where the grand dining room of the Riesenhart mansion was located, the light danced exquisitely with exquisite decorations. Silver candelabras and maná stones provided warmth, but even so, the surroundings felt quite cold, perhaps due to the gentle breeze that filtered through the windows.

The long wooden table shone elegantly under the glow of the chandeliers and the faint warmth of the candles, decorated with intricate details that highlighted a small family crest.

I crossed the threshold behind Alice and silently moved her aside.

The tension was immediate.

Eyes fell on me.

One after another.

Sharp, like blades.

At the head of the table, the marquis sat upright, his imposing figure commanding waves of pressure on all those around him. Today, he seemed even heavier than usual. His calm, steady eyes looked at me for just a moment before losing interest and returning to his glass of wine.

Next to him stood Vivian, stiff as a statue. Her lips were pressed together so tightly that it seemed as if danger would strike at any moment, and her violent, murderous gaze made it clear what she thought of me, even though she didn’t say a word.

Beyond that, to the left of the marquis, were the others: Frederick, with his fists clenched under the table and unable to speak to me, his expression sometimes fluctuating between annoyance and anxiety; next to him, Marie and Lucia, who barely dared to glance at me, as if afraid of being caught watching.

To the right, next to Vivian, sat the marquis’s brothers, my blood uncles... Although calling them that would be an insult to my name, not to mention that the word itself was unfamiliar to me. Their faces showed a mixture of disinterest and caution, but the gleam in their eyes made their intentions and what they really hoped for clear: a reason to judge me.

Every step I took echoed loudly on the marble floor, too loud for my liking, but I had to announce my arrival to these bastards so they wouldn’t use it as an excuse to screw me over.

I stopped in front of an empty seat, not far from the head of the table, and took a deep breath before sitting down.

The velvet of the backrest felt unpleasant against my back, and the silence of the dining room made it even more unsettling.

All that could be heard was the crackling of the candles and the distant wind beating against the windows, as if the entire mansion were holding its breath.

It wasn’t long before that silence was broken by the marquis’s firm voice.

—You’re finally here, Daven, he said with his usual indifference, barely sparing me a glance. "Then, we may begin."

His tone was as sharp as ever, and the entire table reacted at once.

The maids entered in a line, their steps precise and perfectly synchronized, as if every movement had been rehearsed like a play.

Each carried a gleaming silver tray, heavy with dishes that seemed to have come straight from a fairy tale banquet.

The scent of steak reached me first—rich and spiced, carrying the faint perfume of rosemary and melted butter.

On the second tray rested a horned venison loin glazed in red wine, garnished with fine herbs and thin slices of caramelized apple.

The next tray bore a confit rabbit, its golden-crisp skin gleaming, surrounded by a mirror of red berry sauce that released a fragrance both sweet and tart.

Then came the sides:

Golden, steaming puff pastries filled with goat cheese and spinach; a dish of white ginseng root purée with a hint of nutmeg, soft enough to melt at a glance; and baskets of freshly baked bread, lined with golden cloth, releasing a warm, comforting aroma.

Small trays of whipped herb butter completed the scene.

Within seconds, the dining hall was enveloped in a hypnotic perfume—a perfect harmony of savory, sweet, and spiced.

How extravagant... I thought, taking in the dishes that looked as if they belonged to a royal feast.

I served myself carefully, letting the delicate, fragrant aroma fully envelop my senses.

For a moment, I tried to lose myself in the simple act of cutting a piece of meat and moving it onto my plate, ignoring all the eyes I felt stabbing into my back.

The soft clinking of cutlery, the faint crackle of the candles, and the gentle whisper of the wind against the windows were the only sounds that broke the silence.

Every so often, I caught a muffled whisper, a stifled laugh, or the light chime of a glass.

It felt as though the entire table was waiting for me to do something... anything.

I picked up my fork.

The cold metal felt heavier than usual.

I was about to take my first bite when, from the right side of the table, a rough voice dripping with contempt shattered the fragile balance.

—Well, well... remarked one of my uncles, a burly man with a gray mustache and wine-reddened cheeks. "I thought young Daven had forgotten how to sit at this table."

The sting of several gazes hit me instantly.

Frederick tried to hide his smirk, lowering his eyes to his wine glass.

—How many years has it been now? —interjected the other uncle, thinner, with sharp eyes that seemed to dissect my every movement.

I didn’t respond.

I let their words drift past me as I stared at my plate.

—Must have been hard to show your face again, hmm? —added the mustached one, with a low chuckle.

The marquis said nothing, merely sipping his wine, allowing the poison to flow unchecked.

At last, I lifted my gaze and met the eyes of the man who had spoken first.

—I suppose everyone has their reasons for keeping their distance, I said with utter indifference, setting the fork down gently on my plate.

A heavy silence fell over the table.

The man squinted, still wearing that disdainful smile.

—Ah, right... —I added, my voice calm and precise— "like your son."

The transformation was immediate.

First, his eyes went wide.

Then, the smile shattered.

Finally, a furious red climbed up his face.

Unable to contain himself, he crushed the wine glass in his hand.

The crystal burst into a thousand shards, and the red wine spilled across the table.

A thin line of blood slid down his wrist a moment later.

He clenched his teeth, his face twisted with rage.

—You...! he growled, his voice breaking.