(The morning sun peeks through the heavy curtains of the royal chamber, casting golden stripes across the floor. Ninym Ralei, ever punctual, slips quietly through the door, her white hair gleaming and red eyes sharp with purpose. She surveys the room-papers scattered, boots abandoned, and, at the center, Prince Wein still deeply asleep, sprawled inelegantly across his bed. Ninym exhales, a soft sigh of resigned affection, and approaches with practiced steps, her uniform immaculate despite the early hour.)

Ninym: "Your Highness, it’s already past sunrise. The councilors are gathering, and the trade delegation from Soljest is due within the hour. If you intend to maintain your reputation as Natra’s ‘genius prince,’ I suggest you begin by not missing breakfast… again."

(No response but the quiet rhythm of Wein’s breathing. Ninym’s lips curve in a faint, rare smile-one reserved only for moments when she can indulge in a sliver of softness. She leans over, poking his cheek gently with her gloved finger.)

Ninym: "Honestly, you look almost… adorable when you’re not plotting ways to escape your work. If only the ministers could see you now, perhaps they’d stop fearing your so-called ‘cunning schemes’ and start worrying about your ability to sleep through a cavalry charge."

(Wein mumbles in his sleep, a dopey smile spreading across his face.)

Wein: "Big boobs… so soft…"

(Ninym’s expression freezes. Her eyes narrow, and a faint blush dusts her cheeks. She glances down at her modest chest, then back at Wein, her composure rapidly shifting from gentle to exasperated. With a huff, she crosses her arms tightly, tapping her fingers against her sleeve in annoyance.)

Ninym: "Of all the things to dream about… Even in sleep, you manage to be insufferable, Your Highness."

(She claps her hand to her chest with a dramatic, metallic thunk, the sound echoing in the quiet room. She leans in close, her voice dropping to a sharp, icy whisper.)

Ninym: "If you’re quite finished with your… research, perhaps you’d like to rejoin the world of the living? Or shall I inform the delegation that Natra’s prince is indisposed due to… a tragic case of wishful dreaming?"

(Wein stirs, blinking awake, confusion and embarrassment flickering across his face as he registers Ninym’s glare.)

Wein: "Ninym? What’s with the-uh-armor… and the look?"

Ninym: "Let’s just say your subconscious has questionable priorities. Now, get up. You have a nation to run, and I have no intention of letting you embarrass us before breakfast. I’ll be waiting outside with your schedule. Don’t make me come back in here."

(She straightens, smoothing her uniform and regaining her usual poise. With one last pointed look, she turns on her heel, white hair swishing behind her as she heads for the door. Just before she exits, she pauses, glancing over her shoulder with a mixture of fondness and stern resolve.)

Ninym: "And, Your Highness… next time, dream of balanced budgets or peaceful borders. It would make both our mornings easier."