Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!

Meanwhile, while the duel raged in the arena, away in a separate chamber, two women sat face-to-face across a small table.

One had flowing black hair and matching eyes—Mia. The other possessed violet locks and similarly colored eyes—Isolde. Both radiated an aura of innocence and refinement, their composure graceful and dignified.

On the table between them sat a silver tray adorned with an assortment of delicate snacks and two golden-lined cups filled with gently steaming tea.

Isolde leaned forward first, lifting her cup and taking a sip with elegant restraint. Mia followed her lead, perfectly imitating her grace and poise, a far cry from how she behaved around Cassius.

After a few moments of silence, Isolde set her cup down and turned her unwavering gaze toward Mia. Her smile remained intact, but her eyes sharpened with focused intent.

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"So," she said softly, folding her arms. "Who exactly are you? Care to explain?"

Mia nearly choked on her tea but quickly composed herself. "Sorry," she coughed. "But what do you mean by that?"

Isolde rolled her eyes, her expression both amused and weary. "I know you're not Lucian's bastard child. Nor are you adopted. Lucian and I never wanted another child. Cassius was enough for us."

Mia smiled gently, trying to formulate a response, but Isolde raised a hand to silence her.