The Duke's Worthless Daughter Awakens an SSS+ Guide Core

The dining hall of House Emperion was every bit as magnificent as the rest of the estate. Massive pillars of carved black marble supported a vaulted ceiling painted with historical triumphs of the empire. A long obsidian table stretched across the center of the room, capable of comfortably seating more than thirty people.

Crystal chandeliers floated high above, bathing the entire hall in a luminous radiance. Dozens of servants moved silently along the perimeter, arranging an extravagant feast worthy of one of the realm’s greatest noble houses. The rich aromas of exotic spices and roasted meats filled the air, yet the grand display failed to ease the intense tension in the room.

Despite the luxurious setting, the atmosphere remained unbearably stiff. The heavy silence hung over the gathering like a physical weight that no one dared to disturb. Every sharp clink of silver utensils against porcelain echoed clearly against the stone walls.

Merianah sat quietly beside her mother, maintaining a flawless posture that mirrored years of strict aristocratic training. Across from her sat Aldric and Lucien, their expressions carefully guarded as they watched her every move. Cassian occupied the seat beside the Grand Duke, keeping his eyes fixed on his plate to avoid making direct visual contact.

No one seemed to know how to begin a natural conversation. The history between them felt like a vast ocean filled with dangerous undercurrents. They were bound by blood, yet they behaved like absolute strangers trapped in a formal diplomatic summit.

It was Celestine who finally broke the suffocating silence. She offered a fragile smile that did not quite reach her anxious eyes.

"These are all your favorites," she said gently, motioning toward the dishes before Merianah. "I asked the kitchen to prepare everything exactly as I remembered."

Merianah’s crimson eyes swept across the lavish spread. There was braised moon pheasant resting in a reduction of dark mountain berries. Beside it lay a honey-glazed starfish fillet, a rare delicacy imported at great expense from the southern coast.

A silver bowl contained sweet snowberry pudding, dusted with fine sugar that resembled winter frost. They were indeed the original Merianah’s favorite meals. Or rather, they had been the preferences of a girl who no longer existed within this body.

She picked up her silver utensils with practiced elegance, her movements smooth and entirely devoid of hesitation. She offered a small, polite nod toward the woman who had birthed her.

"Thank you."

Only two words passed her lips. They were polite and perfectly respectful, yet they carried a distinct note of emotional distance. She began to eat with a quiet grace that left no room for casual chatter.

Celestine’s smile faltered almost imperceptibly as the cold reality settled over her. She had expected a display of nervous hesitation or perhaps even a flash of bitter resentment. She had prepared herself to comfort a weeping child or endure the wrath of an abandoned daughter.

But this calm politeness felt far colder than any sudden outburst of anger. The warmth of a daughter speaking to her mother was entirely absent from the interaction. Instead, it closely resembled the empty courtesy one high noble extended to an equal during a routine political negotiation.

The painful realization settled into the matriarch’s heart. She stared at her daughter’s serene face, feeling a sudden pang of profound regret. She had returned to Merianah’s life far too late to salvage what had been broken.

I have lost her completely, Celestine thought, her chest tightening with an ache that she could not voice aloud. The girl I left behind is entirely gone.

Grand Duke Alaric watched the subtle exchange without interrupting the women. His sharp gaze eventually shifted from his wife and settled heavily upon Merianah. He evaluated her transformed appearance with the calculating eye of a military commander assessing a new variable.

"Your hair," he stated, his deep voice commanding the attention of everyone at the table.

Everyone looked toward him, the sudden shift in topic drawing a collective breath from the siblings. The striking white strands of Merianah’s hair gleamed under the crystal light, presenting a stark contrast to the dark locks she had possessed since birth.

"You said it changed after leaving the capital city," Alaric noted, leaning back slightly in his carved chair.

"Yes," Merianah replied simply.

"Were you alone during that period?" Alaric questioned, his tone remaining neutral but probing.

Merianah met his piercing eyes calmly, showing no signs of intimidation under his formidable presence.

"I was."

"What exactly happened to cause such a transformation?" Alaric asked, seeking a concrete explanation for the magical anomaly.

She took another small bite of the pheasant before providing her answer. She chewed deliberately, allowing the silence to stretch just long enough to emphasize her composure.

"I don’t know."

It was the absolute truth from her perspective, as the memories of the awakening were fragmented and bizarre. She had no intention of inventing elaborate lies to satisfy his curiosity. The less information she provided, the fewer contradictions she would have to manage later on.

Alaric studied her for several seconds, searching her neutral expression for any sign of deceit or hidden fear. He found nothing but an impenetrable wall of serene indifference.

Then he nodded once, accepting her response for the time being.

"We’ll have the family physicians examine you tomorrow morning," he declared, adjusting his cuffs.

"I understand," Merianah replied.

There was no resistance in her voice. She offered no complaint about being subjected to medical scrutiny so soon after her arrival. Again, her demeanor was far too calm for a young woman who had just survived exile.

Cassian frowned slightly as he observed his sister from across the obsidian table. His little sister had once nervously explained herself whenever their father questioned her actions. She would stumble over her words, her cheeks flushing with anxiety as she tried desperately to please the family.

She used to apologize repeatedly for the smallest perceived mistakes. Now, she answered each query like an experienced military officer delivering a formal casualty report to a superior. Her speech was concise, her posture composed, and her delivery entirely emotionless.

Who is this person sitting across from us? Cassian wondered, a sense of unease washing over him. She feels like a ghost wearing my sister’s face.

"...You’ve changed," Cassian murmured aloud, unable to contain his thoughts any longer.

Merianah looked directly at him, her crimson eyes locking onto his with unsettling intensity.

"People change."

Four simple words hung in the air. Yet none of the men at the table knew how to construct an adequate answer to her statement. The profound simplicity of her words carried a weight that left them entirely speechless.

Because deep down, they all recognized that she was entirely right. People changed when their world fell apart around them. Sometimes they transformed because they matured naturally through the passage of years.

Sometimes they altered their nature because they were deeply hurt by the people they trusted most. Sometimes they changed because they finally stopped expecting anything from those who had abandoned them.

The conversation effectively ended there, leaving a heavy blanket of awkwardness over the remaining courses. No one attempted to continue the discussion or introduce a new topic. The rhythmic clinking of silverware became the sole soundtrack to the miserable gathering.

As dinner finally drew to a close, Celestine quietly reached out and placed a small serving of snowberry pudding beside Merianah’s plate.

"You used to ask for seconds when you were small," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with nostalgia.

Merianah looked down at the delicate dessert, watching the cream slowly melt into the red sauce. A distant memory suddenly surfaced within her mind, unbidden and surprisingly clear. She saw a little girl smiling brightly while her mother laughed softly beside her in a sunlit garden.

It was one of the few genuinely happy memories that remained from the original host’s tragic childhood. The sweet innocence of that moment felt completely foreign to the person she was now.

She extended her slender hand and gently pushed the silver bowl back toward the center of the table.

"I’m not very fond of sweets anymore," she stated softly.

The words were spoken without a hint of malice. There was no hidden accusation lingering within her tone, nor was there any edge of spite. Yet the quiet rejection struck Celestine harder than any harsh criticism or screaming argument ever could.

Celestine lowered her eyes, staring at her own trembling hands as tears threatened to spill over.

"...I see," she managed to reply.

The grieving mother understood the implicit message perfectly. The affectionate little girl who had loved sweet desserts and craved maternal affection had grown up without her guidance. And somewhere during those long, silent years of neglect, that precious child had permanently disappeared into the shadows.

Merianah rose from her velvet seat, smoothing down the skirts of her fine dress with absolute poise.

"Thank you for dinner."

She offered a perfectly respectful nod to everyone remaining at the table, executing the gesture with flawless, noble etiquette.

"Mother. Father. Brothers."

Then she turned smoothly toward the grand exit of the dining hall. Her footsteps made no sound against the polished black stone floors. No one at the table made a single move to stop her departure.

Only after her figure completely disappeared beyond the heavy oak doors did Cassian quietly exhale the breath he had been holding. He rubbed his temples, feeling an overwhelming wave of exhaustion wash over his body.

"...She forgave Mother," Cassian noted, trying to find a silver lining in the bleak interaction.

Lucien slowly shook his head, his expression dark as he stared at the untouched bowl of snowberry pudding.

"No."

He reached out and touched the cold edge of the silver dish.

"She chose kindness."

Cassian blinked in confusion, looking at his brother for a clearer explanation.

"They aren’t the same thing," Lucien added, his voice dropping to a somber whisper.

Silence settled over the grand dining hall once more, heavier and more oppressive than it had been at the start of the evening. The members of the Emperion family sat in the quiet space, realizing the devastating truth of their current situation.

They finally understood that although Merianah had physically returned to the family estate, the emotional distance between them had never been greater. They had brought her body back to the capital, but her heart remained completely out of their reach.