The dining room in the Ashford mansion was, both when I first saw it and even now, strangely imposing.
The ceiling was absurdly high, and the portraits lining the walls all stared straight ahead.
The long mahogany table was far too large for two children to sit across from each other, and the silver candelabra at its center was lit.
In this remote Antarctic outpost where hardly anyone ever set foot, that level of display was excessive to the point of absurdity.
From that unbalanced arrangement, I could clearly feel Alexander’s obsessive side, the side that had spent years trying to preserve the dwindling standing of the nobility.
And yet, despite appearances, there was no warmth in this room at all.
One glance at the single place setting on the table was enough to tell me that.
One thing I had learned was that on the days the children underwent experiments, Alexander alone sat here to eat.
That was because from the evening before the tests, the children were put on a fast, so there was no reason for them to even enter the dining room in the morning.
And that was simply how this room worked.
The servant standing in the corner froze when he saw the three of us.
Then, without a word, he bowed his head and brought over two more sets of cutlery, placing them on the table.
His hands were practiced, but his eyes kept flicking toward me, gauging my reaction.
Even a mere servant could tell this was unexpected. I thought so too.
The two children who were supposed to be sitting at the table were still standing by the door, staring blankly at the dining setup.
It wasn’t just that it was unfamiliar. They looked as if they still couldn’t quite believe this space had been granted to them at this hour.
Come to think of it, it was pitiful beyond words. How long had it been since they’d had a morning like this?
Without saying anything, I sat down first.
Then Alfred spoke up cautiously.
"Um...today is the day of the health checkup. Is it all right to eat?"
I looked at Alfred for a moment.
They’d been starved since the previous evening, and then in the morning they were supposed to have needles stuck all over their bodies.
That had been their normal life, hadn’t it...
"There is no health checkup today."
After saying that briefly, I lowered my gaze to the table.
"Sit down."
Only after my permission fell did the children, who had been hesitating in place, carefully take their seats.
The servant quietly came over and began pouring milk tea into the teacups.
He poured the black tea first, then the milk on top.
At that moment, Alexia stopped him and spoke.
"When making milk tea, it is recommended to pour the milk into the cup before the black tea."
Her voice was calm, buried beneath a serene expression, but the end of her gaze was subtly directed toward me.
"If you pour milk into black tea, the tea’s temperature causes the milk proteins to denature rapidly, which creates a fishy smell. The lactose and fat that give it sweetness also change, leaving a dull taste. Isn’t that right?"
As she said that, Alexia lifted the cup of milk tea she had mixed her own way and took a sip.
So the genius villain with the best brain really is different from the start...
If this child had been ordinary, I might have brushed it off as the sort of know-it-all behavior children often show.
But this girl wasn’t simply showing off. She was testing me.
Unlike Alfred, she seemed to have vaguely noticed something.
That there had been some change in her father. And so, with this one remark, she was measuring how I would react.
But I couldn’t afford to be openly wary.
If I started treating her with suspicion, all the effort I’d put into getting closer to the children would only push them further away.
"But what should I say?"
What would the original Alexander have done in a situation like this?
I had to be careful. I didn’t know what answer she wanted from me, but one reply could decide the trust we built from here on out.
After a brief silence of a few seconds, I opened my mouth.
"That is correct, Alexia."
I lifted the corners of my mouth as naturally as I could.
"However, I would like to add a few supplementary points."
Alexia’s eyes turned toward me.
Her expression seemed to say, "You mean I don’t know everything?"
"First, another reason for pouring the milk in first is to prevent the cup from cracking. But that only applies when using cheap, low-quality porcelain."
I lightly lifted the teacup on the table.
"The tableware used here is not the sort of inferior dishware commoners use. It can withstand sudden changes in temperature without issue. Even if you don’t pour the milk first, this cup won’t break."
Alexia’s gaze shifted to the cup, then back to me.
She had tried to test me, only to be hit with knowledge she hadn’t known, and I could see her wavering a little.
Good. One more hit here.
"And the protein denaturation issue is the same. Casein doesn’t denature until temperatures above 75 degrees Celsius. I’ve already instructed the kitchen to use tea that has cooled to lukewarm for the milk tea. At that temperature, the milk proteins won’t change even if you add the milk afterward."
I hadn’t expected random trivia from my days as a café part-timer to come in handy like this.
"In other words, what you said isn’t wrong. However, the answer can change depending on the conditions."
A short silence followed.
Alexia looked down at her cup.
Then, without a word, she lifted it and took a sip.
It wasn’t a yes or a no, but it was enough.
Alfred looked back and forth between us, then quickly lifted his own cup too.
Watching that, I quietly picked up my fork.
And after a moment, I spoke as if it were nothing.
"From today on, there will be two rules for breakfast."
Both children looked up at the same time.
"First, when you eat, you will look at each other for at least five minutes. Not at the fork or spoon, but eye to eye."
"And second, before eating, I will ask one question of the day. You will have until you go to sleep to answer it."
Alfred reacted first.
"Is it a game?"
"A game...yes, let’s call it that."
I nodded.
"The penalty is..."
I paused for a moment.
The penalty. That was the core of this [game].
For children, the desire to avoid punishment works far more strongly than the desire to receive a reward.
They can live without a reward, but they can’t avoid a penalty.
That made the motivation much more reliable, and it was easier to get them to participate.
"The penalty is that tomorrow morning, you will wash the dishes you used yourself."
Both of their faces twisted at the same time.
Just as expected.
In the Ashford mansion, washing dishes by hand was practically a revolution.
All the more so for noble children who had never once in their lives gotten a single drop of water on their hands.
Compared to corporal punishment, which left deep physical and emotional scars, this was far less burdensome.
The two children glanced at each other.
Neither said a word, but I could read what they were thinking from their eyes.
They had to avoid dishwashing at all costs. That was enough.
By then, the servant had quietly set out the meal and withdrawn.
Scrambled eggs, toast, bacon. A simple breakfast, light enough not to weigh on the stomach.
"Then here is today’s question."
As I spread marmalade on my toast, I said, "Why shouldn’t people hurt other people?"
The sound of forks stopped.
Alfred looked at me, then down at his plate as if thinking.
Alexia also stared straight at me for a moment before lowering her eyes to the dish, as though considering it carefully.
"Because of the law."
Alexia answered first.
"Because we’re told not to."
"Then if there were no law, would it be all right to do it?"
"Of course not... Even if we assume there were no law, a norm would still emerge. Humans always create rules and standards when forming a society, and they tacitly agree to operate within that framework."
For just a moment, only a moment, her pupils shook.
She had answered with logic, but she wasn’t sure whether it was the answer I wanted.
"Then..."
Alfred interjected cautiously.
"Because Father would be sad?"
I stopped my hand for a moment. That short answer sank deeper into me than I expected.
Unlike Alexia, it had nothing to do with logic or norms.
It was simply concern for me. Nothing more.
"Then if I thought I would be happy, would it be all right to hurt someone?"
"Then...wouldn’t it be all right?"
Alfred tilted his head. He looked genuinely unsure.
I quietly swallowed a sigh inside.
Through these few rounds of questions and answers, I was gradually beginning to understand the problem these children had.
It wasn’t that they didn’t understand morality. Their scope and perspective were simply too narrow.
To Alexia, morality was formal.
She understood logically that society would not tolerate breaking moral rules, but she had no guilt or emotional resonance about violating them.
Alfred, on the other hand, did have that sense, but its boundaries ended with the people around him.
Anything beyond the fence surrounding his immediate world simply didn’t matter to him.
Without affirming or denying the children’s answers, I asked the next question, and then another.
And at the right moment, I cut the conversation off.
"Good. That’s enough hints for now. I’ll tell you the answer later."
Alfred looked a little wronged.
Alexia remained expressionless, but the fork in her hand had stopped moving.
She was still thinking about it.
I took a bite of toast.
The fear of dishwashing had dramatically improved the children’s eating speed.
That part’s definitely effective.
We ate quietly, looking at each other’s faces in a way that was, surprisingly, not uncomfortable at all.
Just as the sound of forks scraping against plates began to fade, a shadow appeared at the dining room door.
Then came two knocks.
"Come in."
At my permission, the door opened and in came Scott Herman, the Ashford family’s loyal butler and the man who also served as liaison with Umbrella Pharmaceuticals headquarters.
His hair had gone gray at the temples, his black tailcoat was pressed without a single wrinkle, and his lead-colored eyes looked like the kind that would never be shaken by anything they saw.
He swept his gaze over the three of us at the table, and even after seeing the children sitting there with me, his expression did not change in the slightest.
Only for a brief moment did his eyes linger on Alfred and Alexia before returning to me.
"Master."
He bowed his head and spoke in a low voice.
"The research team from headquarters will be visiting regarding the sudden change to the health checkup schedule originally set for 8:00 this morning. And also..."
He held out a sealed document on a silver tray.
"A renewed request for submission of all original data has arrived. They state that if it is not submitted within 48 hours, an internal audit will be initiated."
I wiped my hands with a napkin and slowly took the document.
Only after seeing the Umbrella logo stamped boldly in the center did it finally feel real.
So this was what I’d have to face after all.
It wasn’t unexpected. The moment I changed the schedule on my own, I knew something would start moving on their side.
Without taking my eyes off the document, I said quietly, "Understood. Come to my office in a little while."
"Yes, sir."
Herman withdrew and closed the door.
Silence settled over the dining room again.
Alfred was watching me as if trying to read my mood, while Alexia remained expressionless. But both of them had put down their forks.
I folded the document and slipped it into the inside pocket of my jacket, then spoke with an unconcerned face.
"If you’re finished, you may get up from the table."
Then I added in a low voice, "Dishwashing starts tomorrow. So until midnight today, think carefully about what the answer is."
As the children’s footsteps faded out of the dining room, I tapped the disgusting document with my fingertips.
Well then. Shall we head to the main event?
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