Morning light slipped gently through the cracks of the king's curtains. The golden hue of the sun swept across the marble floor, climbed up the carpet, the grand bed, and finally framed the face of someone standing at the bedside.
Hana.
Today, she wasn't late. In fact, she arrived earlier than usual. Her hair was neatly tied up with a small ribbon at the back, her uniform crisp and smooth, and her white apron perfectly in place. She had even managed to bring a small flower and set it in the vase by the bedside table.
Her eyes rested on Mathien, still asleep on the bed. His face calm, his breathing steady, and his black hair slightly tousled, falling across his forehead. His grey night robe hung loosely on his frame, revealing just a little of his neck and chest rising and falling with each breath.
"Your Majesty…" Hana whispered softly, leaning closer. "It's morning."
No response.
Hana cleared her throat, then touched his shoulder with a finger—still nothing.
