That morning, the marble corridors of Valtherion Palace were still damp with dew. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, scattering beautifully across the gleaming white floors. Between the scent of roses drifting in from the eastern gardens and the aroma of warm bread rising from the royal kitchens, one hurried set of footsteps shattered the morning calm.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
"Almooost late again!" Hana muttered between breaths.
Her straight black hair flew freely, a few strands sticking to her sweaty face. Her pale blue servant's uniform was slightly wrinkled. In her left hand, she clutched a tray with a steaming pot of water and a small cloth. In her right, her leather shoe dangled precariously—its lace still undone.
"Seriously, Hana…" she hissed at herself. "You've been working here three years, and you still run around like it's a morning race."
She nearly slipped as she turned into the northern hall, but managed to steady herself just in time. Other servants gave her puzzled glances, though they were used to the noisy chaos that followed this girl every morning. After all, everyone knew… Hana was the only one reckless enough to barge into King Mathien's chambers like that.
At last, she stopped before the grand golden doors carved with Valtherion's crest at their center. She paused, catching her breath.
"Calm… calm… look composed," she whispered, straightening her hair and smoothing down her skirt.
Then she knocked twice. Without waiting for a reply.
The door creaked softly as she pushed it open.
"You're late again," came a low voice before she had fully stepped inside.
Hana froze in the doorway. That voice—deep, cool, still tinged with drowsiness—drifted from behind the gauzy curtains of the royal bed.
She gave a small, nervous grin. "I-It's only… five minutes later than yesterday."
The misty veil was slowly drawn aside. A tall figure with tousled jet-black hair sat on the bed, his night robe loose, revealing the pale line of his collarbone. His skin was as white as snow beyond the clouds, and his blue eyes—clear, but cold as a frozen lake—pierced straight into Hana.
His gaze was sharp, his face expressionless. Stern. But Hana knew better.
Because behind that icy stare… was someone who couldn't sleep soundly if she was even a little late coming back to the palace.
Mathien watched her for a few seconds, then leaned back against the headboard, closing his eyes.
"I don't want breakfast late again. Tomorrow, come ten minutes earlier."
"Eh? Wasn't it just five?" Hana muttered under her breath.
Mathien cracked one eye open. "Are you bargaining with me?"
Hana quickly raised both hands in surrender. "No, no! I'm the most obedient servant now, see? The water's still steaming!"
Mathien only sighed.
But before he could close his eyes again, Hana's light footsteps and the clink of her tray already filled the room.
Some habits were hard to break—Mathien was still cold and sharp-tongued, Hana was still noisy and always late. But something had changed.
Now, they were in the same place… with no worlds left between them.
The steam from the teapot still swirled, but hotter still was the gaze Mathien cast as he sat at the edge of the bed, his hair already brushed neatly back. His face, as always: unreadable, sharp, severe.
Hana bowed politely. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. A slight delay—"
"Your hair," Mathien cut in softly.
Hana froze.
Mathien narrowed his blue eyes, studying the messy strands falling across her face.
"Still untidy," he murmured, as if delivering some grave verdict. "And… the scent of flowers on you is weaker than usual."
Hana blinked.
Mathien turned, his eyes sharp, suspicious—like a royal inquisitor catching a culprit.
"You didn't bathe, did you?"
Hana clutched the tray to her chest. "I-I'm clean! I just… shampoo later this afternoon."
Mathien rolled his eyes with a faint huff. "Remarkable. A royal servant waking me without bathing."
Hana pouted. "I washed my hands, splashed my face twice, I smell fine! Who even has time to bathe before the rooster crows?"
He didn't answer. He simply rose slowly, stepping closer to Hana as she shifted awkwardly in the middle of the room.
Then, with calm ease, he flicked the edge of her messy bangs.
"You're the king's personal attendant, Hana. If you're not presentable, what will the world say?" His voice was quiet, not sharp. Too gentle to be called scolding.
Hana lowered her head, cheeks warm.
"…I'm sorry."
But she didn't miss the tiny curve tugging at the corner of Mathien's lips. A smile that only appeared… when his mornings began with Hana.
As Mathien loosened the buttons of his night robe, Hana spun around instantly.
"I-I'll prepare the bath now," she stammered, nearly spilling the tray as she hurried toward the bathing chamber.
The room was vast and lavish, like a spa from a fairy tale. Silver-white marble tiles, a high ceiling with a glittering crystal chandelier, and the bath itself… larger than Hana's entire bed.
Steam rose as Hana poured in fragrant oils. The scent of orange blossom and mint filled the air, making her cheeks flush. She had prepared it every day, yet still grew flustered, knowing who would be soaking in it.
Hearing footsteps behind the misty curtain, Hana straightened quickly from her bent posture, nearly slipping.
"Slow down," came that calm voice, suddenly close.
Mathien stood at the doorway, clad only in a thin robe, his hair tousled, blue eyes fixed on her. Hana bowed her head instantly, cursing the wild thumping of her heart.
"Is it ready?" he asked quietly.
She nodded quickly. "Y-yes, Your Majesty. I'll… leave now."
But before she could slip past him, Mathien shifted to the side, making them stand far too near. Veils of steam hung between them, his profile visible just inches away.
"It's been three years," he murmured.
Hana blinked. "What do you mean?"
He didn't answer at once. His eyes lingered on the calm water, then back to her—with a faint, almost invisible smile.
"Yet you still blush every time you step in here."
Hana's face flared hot.
"I… it's because this bathroom is way too big… and… and…"
"And because I'm your king?" Mathien teased.
She bit her lip. "…Yes."
Mathien chuckled softly. The sound was low, like a whispering breeze, yet enough to make Hana wish she could sink into the bath herself.
"Go," he said, loosening the knot of his robe. "Before I truly bathe in front of you."
Hana darted out like a startled rabbit.
Inside, the door clicked shut. Mathien's quiet laughter followed.
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Mathien emerged from the bath with damp hair trailing softly down his neck. Steam lingered behind the door, his pale skin striking against the black robe draped loosely over his shoulders.
Hana stood ready, holding out the royal robe of deep blue embroidered with gold along the collar and cuffs. Her hands trembled slightly as she offered it.
He faced her, expression blank as always, yet his gaze… warm.
"Come," he said shortly.
Hana stepped forward cautiously. Rising on her toes, she draped the robe over his shoulders, fixing it across his chest and collar.
Her fingers brushed his neck by accident. She jerked them back instantly.
"Sorry!" she gasped.
Mathien merely raised a brow. "You're more flustered than three years ago, and I'm not even a fat cat anymore."
Hana's eyes widened. "You… you still remember?!"
A soft chuckle escaped him, deep and filled with memory. "Of course. You used to call me 'Chiro the fat one' behind my back. Don't think I didn't hear."
Her cheeks flushed red. She pinched the edge of his sleeve lightly. "That's because you really were fat back then!"
Mathien leaned down, his face now only a breath away from hers. Drops of water from his damp hair almost touched her forehead.
"If I became a cat again, would you still hold me like before?" His voice was flat, but the faint smile betrayed him.
Hana turned her face away. "Hmph… as long as you don't crush my stomach this time."
He laughed quietly.
"Alright, I'll remember that."
Once the robe was set neatly, Mathien stood tall, regal, the crest of the kingdom gleaming on his chest.
Hana stepped back, gazing up at him from head to toe.
"You really look like a king now," she muttered, half in awe, half disbelief.
His eyes lingered on her for a moment. Then softly, almost tenderly, he said, "I am a king. But if it's you who says it… somehow, it feels different."
Hana held her breath.
Before she could reply, a knock echoed from the door.
"Your Majesty, guests from the north have arrived," called a guard.
Mathien sighed, turning back to Hana. "Later… join me at the balcony. After the duties are done."
She nodded faintly, her heartbeat still unsteady.
And Mathien, as always, walked away with calm steps—though not without a fleeting smile that slipped across his lips before disappearing beyond the door.
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