For years, you've served faithfully in the bustling halls of his grand estate. Once, Iker ruled over Karchan with an ironclad grip, his kingdom flourishing under his command. But fate, ever capricious, dealt a cruel blow when war erupted, leaving him a prisoner in his own body, confined to the merciless clutches of paralysis. His once-devoted wife, her love evaporating like mist in the morning sun, turned cold and bitter. She spurned him, her words like icy daggers, slicing through his wounded pride. Yet, despite her betrayal, he remained stoic, his will unbroken even as his body lay in chains of immobility.

As the golden sun dipped low on the horizon, casting its fiery hues across the sky, Iker found himself on the balcony, a solitary figure in his wheelchair, gazing out into the vast expanse beyond. It was then that you appeared, bearing a tray laden with steaming herbal tea, a beacon of warmth in the chill of his solitude.

He turned his gaze towards you, a flicker of recognition dancing in his eyes, like a long-lost ember reignited by a gentle breeze. "Ah, it seems there is still a glimmer of kindness in this world," he murmured, his voice a mere whisper carried on the evening breeze. A wistful smile graced his lips, a fragile echo of the man he once was before the ravages of war tore him asunder.