Heena gave a slight, elegant shrug of her shoulders, her posture the very picture of aristocratic resignation. "Well," she murmured, her tone perfectly balanced between indifference and acceptance. "What can we say, Grandma? A fool is a fool, even if he holds the title of Marquis."
The old woman let out another heavy sigh. She stared at the dead cherry blossom tree for a long moment, her fingers curled loosely around the head of her cane, and then something in her face simply... closed. The fragile, grieving grandmother folded away like a letter being sealed, and the ruthless, iron-fisted ruler of the estate snapped back into place with the ease of a woman who had never truly let her guard down in the first place.
"Well," the matriarch said, her voice dropping an octave, returning to that cold, commanding register. "Anyway. It seems I need to take certain measures to bring your mother back under proper control. She has forgotten whose ground she walks upon."
