Tristan stood frozen, stunned by the girl's unexpected words. An invitation to a café would completely undermine his earlier claims that she was not his friend. There were two things Tristan detested above all else: people who believed themselves superior to others, and being proven wrong.
His gaze shifted slightly toward Garfield, who was grinning like a cat that had caught a canary. Tristan could almost hear the words lingering on his companion's tongue:
"Oh, I thought you had no friends. So what's this—going out for breakfast with someone who supposedly means nothing to you?"
Or something equally infuriating.
Tristan weighed his options carefully. If he declined Amelia's invitation, it would almost certainly upset her. But if he accepted, it would be an open admission of the closeness between them—something he was reluctant to concede.
'Damn it! Why did she have to show up today... especially with this fool present?'
Amelia tilted her head, confusion etched across her features.
"You don't want to come?" she asked, her tone light but questioning.
Tristan hesitated for a moment, then shook his head with feigned indifference.
"No, it's fine. We can go," he replied in a sluggish, unenthused voice.
"You're welcome to join us," Amelia added, her gaze now directed at Garfield.
Garfield responded with a sly smile and nodded.
And with that, the four of them exited the boutique and climbed into Amelia's carriage. Tristan sat by the window, his expression clouded with regret as memories of the previous night surged within him. He turned back and waved goodbye to Kenway. The old man returned the gesture with a warm smile and a gentle wave.
Amelia's maid signaled the coachman, and the carriage lurched forward.
Silence settled in the air like dust until Garfield, ever the one to break a still moment, spoke.
"Miss Green—" he began, only to be silenced by Amelia's hand lifting gently.
"You may call me Amelia."
"All right, if you say so. I wanted to ask—why are you so close with my brother? Nobles usually don't associate with people from the Lower District. So why him?" Garfield asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
Tristan remained quiet. He knew the answer but didn't believe it was his to reveal. Besides, he was curious—would Amelia tell the truth or fabricate some noble excuse?
"I wish to become a Pillar Leader," she replied, her voice calm and resolute. "Tristan is helping me achieve that goal. In return, I assist him in accomplishing whatever it is he desires."
"Pillar Leader? But why?" Garfield asked, astonished. "You already have everything—why would you need more power?"
"My power as a noble is limited," she explained. "I cannot reform this country with the shallow authority bestowed upon me by birthright. I must become a Pillar Leader, and with that strength, I will abolish the discrimination plaguing our nation."
Garfield was momentarily speechless. Her words were lofty, her ambition immense—but the fire in her eyes, the unwavering conviction, made him smile.
"Count me in."
"What?" Tristan snapped his head away from the window, glaring at Garfield.
"I want to work with both of you. If true equality existed in Constella, it would be paradise," Garfield said, his voice saturated with conviction.
Amelia closed her eyes, considering. Tristan watched her silently, awaiting her judgment.
"Very well. You may join us."
Tristan raised a brow, feigning hesitation.
"I have no objection to Garfield, but I must ask—why are we allying ourselves with him?" he said, his tone laced with fabricated doubt.
Amelia did not falter.
"He's strong—and I believe you know that better than anyone. And I believe our goals align."
"I see," Tristan muttered.
'I don't see. What does she see in him?'
His gaze fell once more upon Garfield, who, as always, wore a radiant smile. Garfield appeared content with the outcome, but Tristan wasn't. He had no desire to tether himself to the eccentric energy that was Garfield.
His attention shifted to the silent maid seated beside Amelia.
"You never told us your maid's name," Tristan remarked.
Amelia turned toward the brunette woman. Her eyes, a soft brown, were framed by delicate wire-rimmed glasses. Her complexion was immaculate, a quiet beauty.
"My name is Synthia Green," she said, adjusting her glasses slightly.
"Green? You're related?" Tristan asked, curiosity flaring in his voice.
"It's not unlikely. Many nobles do this," Garfield interjected.
Tristan narrowed his eyes.
"Do what, exactly?"
"Sometimes nobles have children with women from the Lower Districts. Those children, despite having noble blood, are deemed lesser because they're of mixed descent. Nobles either leave them with their mothers in the Middle District or raise them in their manors—usually as servants," Garfield explained, a trace of sorrow bleeding into his words.
The tone, the look in Garfield's eyes—it revealed everything.
"We have the same father. She's my elder sister," Amelia said softly.
"No, we are not! I am your maid, and Lord Green is my master," Synthia said quickly, her voice sharp.
Amelia's face darkened.
"I don't care what you say—you are my sister."
Synthia exhaled, a heavy sigh of resignation.
"If you say so, my lady."
Tristan and Garfield sat in silence, as though their mouths had been sewn shut. An awkward air had filled the carriage.
Garfield, as usual, was the first to pierce it.
"So… what's the name of the café we're going to?"
"It's a well-known establishment in the High District. It's called Floare Café," Amelia replied.
"I think I've heard of it. Is the food any good?" Garfield asked.
Amelia paused before responding.
"I wouldn't know. It's my first time visiting. I usually eat meals prepared by the chefs at my manor."
The life of a noble—one that many could only fantasize about. While others scrounged for scraps, nobles feasted upon gold-plated abundance.
'Anyone would feel jealous hearing that,' Tristan mused internally.
But Garfield's reaction was anything but expected.
He chuckled.
"That's perfect. Now we can all experience it together for the first time."
'Wow. He's surprising. Most would be envious, but not him. He's content with what he has. That kind of happiness... it asks for nothing more,' Tristan reflected.
Amelia let out a soft, almost uncharacteristic laugh.
"Yes, we can enjoy it together."