Melody—still furious after being shoved around by Lilith—rouses herself with an idea.
“Let’s just flip her over and beat her up! She might be tough, but there’s three of us now—surely we can handle her!”
Her suggestion, born of lingering resentment, is abruptly cut off by a voice at the drawing-room door:
“Discussing such things?”
It’s Francis and Lilith waiting at the entrance. Hesitant, the sisters and Carmen quickly set aside their bickering and follow them in.
They find the drawing room oddly empty—clean, yes, but stripped bare. Cushions are gone (being cleaned), the sofa is uncomfortable, tables are bare without flowers or candles, chairs are missing, and it looks disjointed. Carmen, mortified,‘s heart pounds at the lack of decor.
Francis, unfazed, simply crosses his legs and sits on the sofa. Lilith settles beside him, while the rest remain standing, anxiously awaiting his judgment.
“Won’t you sit?” Lilith prompts them gently. They take hesitant seats opposite.
Silence hangs heavy. Carmen, desperate, picks up a tea cup, only to discover it’s cold. The famous Camillea tea from the Daunt region is now flavorless. Her pulse races—this is a grave faux pas.
Mustering courage, she blurts out:
“May I prepare fresh tea? I’m sorry it’s cold—it’s unacceptable to serve, uh, you this way!”
Francis smiles softly, politely dismissing her concerns:
“Please don’t worry about it. Lilith and I already had tea and dessert at the café; we don’t need more right now.”
Relief washes over Carmen—Francis has excused the mistake.
But then comes his unexpected evaluation:
“This is a modest drawing-room. Do you aim for simplicity in decoration, Countess?”
He addresses Lilith first; she diplomatically answers,
“It’s better than the mess it used to be. Sure, it feels bare, but mess is worse than emptiness.”
At her reply, Melody starts to protest—but Aria hushes her quickly, interrupting the outburst.
Francis presses on:
“Well said. Based on Lilith’s comments, I’ll give it a passing grade.”
Carmen’s relief turns bittersweet—her sleepless toil wasn’t in vain, but she can’t stop the resentment stirring in her chest.
Finally, mustering all her courage, she asks the core question:
“My Lord, may I ask your reason for visiting our Delphy household?”
Francis nods. Carmen’s pulse races.
“I came because I had something important to say, but our last meeting was abrupt. I thought perhaps you’d forgotten. Do you remember?”
“Of course I remember,” Carmen replies nervously.
He continues, voice steady:
“It’s sudden and bold, I know, but I am deeply in love with Lilith-sama.” He gently squeezes her hand.
Lilith smiles, leaning into him:
“Mother, I love him too. I’d give him everything without hesitation.”
He, elegantly brushing back her black hair, reveals a ring prominently on his pinkie.
“Countess Delphy, I ask for your blessing for our relationship.”
It’s phrased like a request—but feels like a command. Carmen’s breath catches; she’s trapped between hope and dread.
Attempts by Aria to intervene—saying they barely know each other—are predictably twisted by Francis.
He angles it as mistrust. Carmen tries to clarify, saying they want time to observe him more, but Francis surprisingly laughs:
“All you need, then, is proof of sincerity?”
He leans closer, tone shifting cold:
“I love Lilith sincerely… and yes, I’ve considered this for hours. I’d bring her here, but since you prefer seeing more—”
He pauses to savor their reactions, then drops the bomb:
“I will move in. I will live here with Lilith.”
The statement hangs in the air.
