Yet, hanging on the mantelpiece just a few feet away from the dining table was a memorial shrine.
At the center of the shrine sat a black-and-white ink portrait of a young woman: Seera. It was beautifully painted, capturing her sharp eyes and proud posture. A few sticks of incense burned lazily in a bronze holder beneath it. But a closer look revealed the sickening truth of the family's "grief." A distinct, undisturbed layer of gray dust coated the top of the wooden frame. No one had bothered to carefully wipe or touch that portrait in a very long time. It was nothing more than a permanent prop, set up to show the visiting nobles that they hadn't forgotten their "tragically lost" daughter.
They laughed and ate rich food right in front of her dusty memorial.
Meanwhile, the servants lining the walls of the dining hall were practically vibrating with terror.
