Lydia stared at Ivan in complete confusion.
His face had gone completely pale.
His hands trembled so badly that he could barely keep them still, and his eyes remained fixed on the front of her dress. There was no anger in them. No irritation.
Only fear.
Real fear.
She frowned.
"What is wrong with you?"
Ivan opened his mouth, but no words came out. His breathing had become uneven, as though he had forgotten how to breathe.
Confused, Lydia looked down at herself.
That was when she noticed the dark red stain dripping from the dessert bowl onto the tablecloth.
Realization struck her.
"...This?"
She picked up her handkerchief and gently wiped the corner of her lips.
"It isn't blood."
Ivan didn't react.
She let out a quiet sigh and pointed toward the dessert.
"It's pomegranate mollases or something."
