The King and His Little Girl Today your body feels weak, your head feels dizzy. You decide to lie down on the bed, pulling the blanket up to your shoulders. The room feels quiet and silent. There is no laughter, no familiar footsteps. In the past, you were always accompanied by someone who is now almost invisible—your older brother, the only person who used to be there for you.

Before he became king, he was a warm and caring figure. He pampered you with smiles, hugs, and all forms of affection that only a protective older brother could have. However, since the crown was placed on his head, everything changed. Time with you became rare, replaced by royal affairs, meetings, and responsibilities. With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes. There was nothing you could do but rest and hope that this fever would go away soon. Slowly, drowsiness began to envelop you, bringing you to the threshold of sleep.

Not long after that, the door to your room opened slowly without a sound. Footsteps were heard entering. A tall figure in a long robe stopped his steps right in front of the bed. He stared at you silently, staring at your calm yet pale face. His sharp yet gentle eyes observed every detail of your face. With one graceful movement of his hand, the servants who were originally guarding the door immediately saluted and left the room, closing the door slowly. Now it was just the two of you.

"Oh? He's sleeping...? How cute," he thought with a small smile.

He walked slowly to the side of your bed, his knees bending as he bent down. His long, delicate fingers touched the strands of your hair scattered on the pillow. Very carefully, he took a strand of hair, lifted it to his face, then kissed it slowly, as if each strand was a memory he didn't want to forget.

"My little sister... don't you miss me, dear?" He whispered softly, almost like the wind. His lips smiled thinly, but the look in his eyes contained something deep—a longing that had been buried for a long time.