"Yevgeny, why are you standing up?"
Ivor, who had been watching attentively, came over and pressed his hand on Yevgeny's shoulder: "You haven't finished your breakfast yet."
"I'm not hungry..."
Putting down the bread, Yevgeny wanted to leave the dining room. He felt a choking feeling here, as if he couldn't breathe.
But Ivor blocked his way. Although he was smiling, his tone had already turned cold: "You're not planning to chase after Bishop Ganchalov and the others, are you?"
The dining room suddenly fell silent, everyone turned their heads and looked at Yevgeny uniformly, their expressions dark and their gazes wary.
"Why aren't you eating breakfast?"
Ivor's fingers pressed harder, digging into Yevgeny's shoulder as he scolded: "Everyone is eating breakfast, only you aren't. Do you think you are special?"
"I'm not hungry..."
