The soft chirping of birds echoed outside the window, filling the quiet morning air. Mika twitched slightly beneath the cozy blanket, the sunlight seeping through the curtain cracks, casting warm streaks across his bed.
A faint, delicious scent lingered in the air—freshly cooked food. His sleep-heavy mind stirred, and with a slow breath, Mika cracked open one eye, blinking lazily.
"My lord, wake up. It's already afternoon."
Louis' steady, authoritative voice sliced through the peaceful silence.
Mika let out a yawn, sluggishly pushing himself up into a sitting position, his limbs stretching as he blinked away the remnants of sleep.
His gaze drifted to the side—
Louis was standing perfectly still beside his bed.
Watching.
Waiting.
Mika froze mid-stretch, blinking again—this time in concern.
"...How long have you been standing there?"
Louis remained unfazed, his tone serious. "Not too long. Just five minutes."
Mika sweatdropped slightly. "And you just... watched me sleep?"
Louis raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.
"What else should I do?"
His voice carried genuine curiosity, as if the idea of doing anything else simply hadn't occurred to him.
Mika let out a tired groan, facepalming hard enough to wake himself up fully.
"Next time, you don't have to wait for me to wake up."
Louis stared at Mika, then responded bluntly—unwavering, absolute in his logic.
"I can't do that. My job as a bodyguard is protecting you."
Mika rubbed his temple, a quiet sigh escaping him as he reminded himself—
Louis wasn't used to working normally.
He had spent his life as a slave, bound by orders and expectations.
The concept of privacy probably didn't even exist to him.
The thought made Mika's chest tighten slightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling.
'He doesn't mean harm. He just doesn't know any better.'
Letting out another sigh, Mika leaned back against the bed, his eyes flickering toward the window.
The sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtains, casting soft, golden streaks across the room.
It was strange—being able to sleep in this late. In his previous life, Mika had been a cog in the machine, slaving away at a black company, his days consumed by endless work.
But now? Now he could rest.
He could breathe.
His gaze shifted toward Louis, who stood rigidly by his bedside, ever-watchful.
For a moment, Mika considered trying to get him to relax, to loosen up—
But he stopped himself.
Louis wasn't him.
He couldn't force someone to change.
Louis would have to do that on his own terms, at his own pace.
The faint scent of food pulled Mika from his thoughts.
"I smell something delicious."
His eyes landed on the steaming plate resting on the bedside table.
With a small wiggle, Mika shifted into a sitting position, his back resting against the headboard.
Louis stepped forward, grabbing the plate and handing it to him.
Mika accepted it, his gaze falling on the dish—a perfectly cooked plate of fried rice, the steam curling upward in soft tendrils.
"Huh. I didn't know you could cook."
Louis straightened slightly, as if Mika's surprise only added to his pride in the dish.
His tone remained flat, but his eyes—
They kept flickering between the plate of food and Mika's face, waiting for a reaction.
"I don't. I just threw whatever I found in the kitchen."
Mika's hand froze mid-air, the spoon hovering just before his lips.
His gaze shifted from Louis to the steaming fried rice in his hand.
Suddenly—uncertainty crept in.
Would it actually taste good? Or did it just look good?
A nervous gulp, a flicker of hesitation—
Then, Mika shoved the spoon into his mouth, chewing slowly.
His eyes widened instantly.
An explosion of flavor.
A rush of warmth, richness— something he had never tasted before.
"Delicious!!"
Without thinking, Mika wolfed down the fried rice, his stomach happily accepting every bite.
A thought struck him mid-chew, hitting harder than he expected.
'I-Is this what home-cooked food tastes like?'
In his past life, he had survived on convenience store meals, grabbing whatever was cheap and easy.
Sometimes, he only drank instant coffee for days, simply because that was all he could afford.
It had never been about enjoying food—it was about getting by.
A stray tear slipped down his cheek before he even realized it.
Louis' eyes widened slightly, noticing the silent tears falling onto Mika's lap.
"Master?"
His voice snapped Mika out of his thoughts.
Mika blinked rapidly, wiping his cheeks in embarrassment.
'Did I seriously just cry over food?'
Clearing his throat, Mika slowed his pace, chewing with more control this time.
Meanwhile—Louis watched quietly, his mind swirling with only one thought.
'To think that he cried just because of food…My lord… I promise to hone my talent in cooking and feed you even more delicious meals!'
Louis took the empty plate from Mika before handing him a glass of water.
"My lord, I have cleaned the garden. Would you like to see it?"
Mika glanced at Louis while sipping his drink, nodding as he handed the glass back.
That fast? Mika had expected it to take a few days—maybe even a week—to clear out the massive, overgrown garden. Yet, Louis had somehow finished in half a day.
What a monster.
"Alright, let's go."
Mika swung his legs over the bed, preparing to stand—
Only to pause and glance at Louis. "Is there a chance you can carry me to the garden?"
Louis raised an eyebrow, his tone flat but sharp. "Yes. By cutting your legs."
"What?" Mika whined, his voice rising in protest. "But you carried me yesterday!"
"That was different," Louis replied, looking down at Mika with his usual deadpan expression. "There was a risk someone might snatch you on the road. We just broke out of the underground arena. There's still a possibility the leader's workers could attack you."
"But I'm too lazy to walk..." Mika sighed, slumping slightly. It seemed Louis carrying him yesterday had awakened a new level of laziness in the third prince.
'Too lazy?' Louis raised his eyebrows, his thoughts flickering briefly. He couldn't afford to spoil Mika too much.
"Haah, fine. I'll just hire someone to carry me around later," Mika muttered under his breath, though Louis' sharp ears caught every word.
"Please don't waste money on weird things," Louis said, his tone firm. "You need to move around, or your muscles will go useless."
Mika groaned in annoyance before jumping out of bed and stretching his body.
"Fine, fine. Let's go."
He reached out to grab his coat but stopped short, walking past it instead. There was no need to dress up nicely—he could wear whatever he wanted, as long as it wasn't the stuffy clothing he wore for work.
Louis watched him with mild confusion as Mika began unbuttoning the top four buttons of his shirt and untucking it. 'I guess he doesn't really care about his appearance,' Louis thought, his expression neutral.
Trailing behind Mika, Louis' nose twitched slightly as he caught a faint, sweet scent lingering around the prince. 'I just noticed this, but he smells more like the black roses I cleaned up yesterday. He went straight to sleep as soon as we got back, so there should be at least some blood scent clinging to him—but there's none.'
"Woah... you actually cleaned it..."
Mika's eyes widened as he took in the transformed garden.
Just yesterday, it had been wild, overgrown, nearly unrecognizable—weeds choking the flower beds, vines creeping up the walls, moss smothering the pavement.
But today?
It was practically spotless.
The tangled vines were gone, the tall grass trimmed neatly, the weeds ripped out from their roots. Even the moss had been scrubbed away, leaving the stone paths clear and fresh.
It didn't just look cleaned—it looked reborn.
Mika blinked at the sheer effortlessness of it.
"Louis, I didn't expect you to do this much of a good job!"
He slapped Louis on the back, a casual gesture of praise—
But Louis didn't flinch.
To him, Mika's slap felt like nothing more than a pillow landing softly against his armor.
Yet—despite his unchanging expression, his heart raced at the unexpected praise.
Louis didn't know why—but hearing words of approval made something light and unfamiliar bloom in his chest, as if he was floating on air.
"Did I do well?" he asked, glancing down at Mika.
Mika nodded enthusiastically, waving him closer.
"Yes, yes! You did a good job—a very good job. Here, lean down!"
Louis hesitated for half a second but ultimately bent down to Mika's height, confused but obedient.
That's when Mika grinned mischievously, reaching up—
And ruffled Louis' silver hair.
Louis let out a quiet, startled noise, completely caught off guard.
"Good boy! You deserve a raise!" Mika teased, his grin widening.
Louis blinked, thoroughly puzzled.
"I've only worked with you for one day," he said flatly, but he didn't stop Mika from patting his head.
"Ahaha, but we haven't even talked about your salary yet!"
At Mika's words, Louis looked at him with wide, sparkling eyes.
"I get paid for my work?"
All his life as an underground fighter, he had never once received payment. The only things he ever got were food and barely-there comfort, just enough to keep surviving.
To think he'd have his own money—something he could hold, something he could spend on anything he wanted—it made him genuinely happy.
If he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy.
"Let's see… How about…" Mika thought for a moment, recalling the details of this world's currency.
Ice.
Not to be mistaken for actual frozen water, Ice was the equivalent of modern-day paper bills. Unlike gold, which was strictly used for accessories, Ice was enhanced with magic, preventing forgeries or counterfeit copies.
"Four thousand Ice a month," Mika suggested.
Louis' entire face brightened, practically sparkling with joy.
"Four thousand? You're too kind, my lord."
He immediately started thinking about everything he could buy with that much money.
"Nah, you do your job properly. Do a good job, and I'll raise it even more."
Mika pulled his hand away, stepping forward as he admired the now pristine garden, a satisfied smile creeping onto his face.
Mika's smile faltered as a sudden wave of nostalgia hit him. His gaze swept across the garden, its fresh cleanliness clashing with the memories lingering in the back of his mind.
He remembered the original Mika—the child who once ran through these paths, laughing, playing, unaware of the cruel fate waiting ahead.
He remembered the servants who had cared for him, their hands worn from years of labor, their voices gentle, their presence the closest thing to a family he had ever known.
All of them were older workers, handpicked because they would never live long enough to expose Mika to the public. The king had thought it a simple solution—but the loss had left wounds deeper than he could ever understand.
Mika stopped in front of a bench, lowering himself onto the wooden seat as his fingers traced the deep scratches carved into the surface. Names.
All the names of those who had once served him.
People he would never see again.
The ache in his chest tightened, familiar but no less painful. His eyes lingered on the worn letters, his body heavy with quiet grief.
Louis stood a few feet away, giving Mika space.
He didn't know much about emotions—but he knew that right now, Mika needed silence more than words.
"Hear ye! Hear ye! A message from the king!"
The loud call from the front gate snapped Mika out of his thoughts.
He blinked, momentarily disoriented, before turning to Louis. The two exchanged confused looks before heading toward the entrance, where a group of soldiers stood in front of the gate.
One of them—a broad-shouldered man who clearly looked like the captain—was mid-argument with the others.
"I told you, we're not here to declare war, dumbass! We should be yelling our position in the kingdom, the person we wish to see, and then our reason for being here! We need to be polite—we're soldiers, not barbarians!"
Mika's eyes widened the moment he caught sight of the captain.
No way.
His breath hitched as his pulse quickened.
What was he doing here?
The color drained from Mika's face, beads of sweat forming at his temple as he stared in shock.
"The captain of the Eirnard Kingdom…" His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with disbelief.
"Arthur Norlheim."