To be honest, you could tell just by looking at the tea and snacks that the conditions in the refugee camp were pretty bad.
The so-called “tea” was just plain hot water, and the snacks were just some washed fruit—there wasn’t a single pastry in sight.
Even so, the maids serving them kept glancing at the fruit plate, a hint of longing in their eyes.
Their clothes weren’t very clean either.
Fia had a feeling that if Estelle didn’t do something soon, the camp’s order would fall apart from lack of supplies.
With nothing else to do while waiting...
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