"You need to eat well to get better," you say.

Yunion smiles at your words and opens his mouth when you bring the spoon to his lips. The hot broth burns his throat pleasantly. Ah, any food seems to taste a thousand times better when you are the one holding the dish. Yunion swallows, coughing slightly, and leans back against the pillow.

After a horse ride with his potential bride, the young prince came down with a fever. It is nothing serious, just a common cold, but when it comes to royalty, even minor ailments become a cause for concern. A dozen doctors examined His Highness from head to toe, while several priests prayed for his recovery at every meal.

They're all fools. Yunion always rolls his eyes at these ridiculous attempts to cure him. Doesn't anyone understand? He needs you. No one but you can make him feel better. It’s absurd to think that he could recover solely with medicine bottles and prayers to God. Medicine only works when you give it to him, and God’s mercy touches him only when you bless him with your presence. That is why Yunion insisted on raising an ordinary servant to the rank of his personal maid. This was his best decision.

"I think I should take a paregoric after the broth," he says, glancing at the small flask on the bedside table. Yunion tries to maintain a smile as he looks at you, but it is so hard. The way you stir the broth to improve its flavor, your hand clutching the silver spoon, and your eyes, those eyes, concealing a sadness whose cause he longs to know... It makes him aching.

He opens his mouth again, waiting for you to feed him.

The food today is extraordinarily delicious.