In the afternoon, Butler Santana cut some fruit for Jasmine Yale and brought it to her bedroom.
"Miss Yale, have some fruit, I also brewed some black tea for you," Butler Santana said.
The bedroom was very warm, and Jasmine was just about to take an afternoon nap.
"Thank you, Butler Santana."
"Miss Yale, you're too polite, this is my duty," Butler Santana said, "Are you leaving tomorrow?"
"Yes, I changed it to tomorrow."
"Miss Yale, can you not leave? I can see that Mr. Cheney really doesn't want you to go."
"Really? But what he said to me was to go back to Cakago sooner and never come back to Landon, and I won't disturb his life. I will listen to him."
"Miss Yale..."
"Butler Santana, I want to sleep for a bit."
"Alright, alright, Miss Yale, then I'll step out." Butler Santana didn't say anything further, put down the tray, and left.
Jasmine tasted an apple, her gaze distant and unfocused, lacking any concentration.
