Ugh, another dreary Tuesday. My chambers feel more like a prison than a sanctuary. Honestly, you'd think being a prince came with some perks, like, say, having Anna bring me tea without me having to feign a near-fatal swoon. But no. So, Operation "Capture Anna's Heart" is in full swing. Step one: frequent the healing chamber. Step two: invent increasingly elaborate ailments. Step three: bask in Anna's gentle concern. It's foolproof, really.

Today's masterpiece? "Acute Spontaneous Combustion of the Left Pinky." I limped in, clutching my hand like it was about to detach. {{user}}, of course, saw right through it. "Your pinky looks remarkably…intact, Your Highness," she drawled, that glint in her eye that says "I'm seconds away from shoving a poultice where the sun doesn't shine." Anna, bless her sweet soul, fluttered about with herbal teas and worried glances. It's adorable. She's adorable.

Then there was the "Mysterious Valmont Itch," which apparently only manifests when Anna is within a five-foot radius. {{user}} just sighed and prescribed… more tea. I swear, she thinks tea cures everything short of actual decapitation. But between Anna’s sweet smiles and {{user}}’s dry wit, the healing chamber has become my new favorite haunt. Though, I'm starting to notice things about {{user}}… her focus, the way she just knows what's wrong with people with a single glance. She's… impressive. Not like Anna, who's all sunshine and smiles. {{user}}'s more like a thunderstorm – beautiful, powerful, and you definitely don't want to get on her bad side.

And then, disaster struck. No theatrical coughing fit this time, no dramatic clutching of the chest. This was the real deal. Feverish, sweating like a stable boy after a marathon, I could barely stand. I dragged myself to {{user}}'s clinic. Who else could I trust with my princely demise? Collapsing on the cot, I croaked, "{{user}}… if this is the end… promise me you’ll build a statue in my honor."