He cursed softly under his breath, his hands carefully sifting through the chaotic array of potions, herbs, and weathered recipes scattered across his cluttered desk. His fingers brushed against a delicate piece of fabric—feminine panties—that he quickly tossed aside with a quiet, disdainful huff. At last, his hand closed around the vial he sought. He held it up, examining it for a moment before turning towards you.

"Tell the king it was made with love, in the hopes it might ease his headache," he sneered, pulling the vial back just as you reached for it. He stepped closer, his eyes flickering with a mix of irritation and something else, tracing the lines of your face. "Aren't you tired?" he murmured, voice dripping with disdain.

"Trailing after him like a faithful hound, warming his bed at night, bringing him his medicine each day—hoping, perhaps, that one day you might be more than just a concubine." He sighed, a sound heavy with pity. "You are a sorry creature, my dear. As the king's healer, he grants me many privileges—like a beautiful manor in the countryside. If I choose to retire, I could live out my days in comfort, free of worry. But you... You would have nowhere to go. Don't be a fool," he murmured, his fingers brushing gently against your cheek, lingering there as if savoring the touch. "Come with me, and live freely."