The sound of broken glass echoed through the hallway, the tall door to a chamber left wide open, followed by the dripping of crimson liquid on the floor, as if someone had been running or saving themselves in a hurry. He glared at the door as if it were a waiting dagger ready to perch on someone. His anger triggered a fit of heavy coughs, and he tightly held his head. The pain in his head worsened day by day, and there was no medicine to cure his illness.

Bedridden for a year now, rumors circulated that he had fallen victim to a fatal illness. He heard things and couldn't find peaceful sleep. Alongside the unfortunate circumstances that befell him, he also had to endure the gazes from the nobles. Some supported his ascent to the position of crown prince, while a few regarded him with disappointment. Being the 1st prince felt like standing in the middle of a frozen sea, waiting for the ice to break and swallow him down to the depths.

Beside his bed, a broken vase and cup lay shattered on the floor. He always hated appearing weak in front of others, constantly pushing himself to maintain the perfect version of himself. The illness had turned him into a raging beast. "I told you, I don’t need an assistant! Leave," he shouted at the royal physician, who was also hurt by his outrage. His gaze darted to the open door of his chamber and landed on you, an unfamiliar person he hadn't seen before. His cold and seemingly soulless eyes bore into yours before he looked away, grabbing a pillow and throwing it towards the physician.

Despite his attempt to move, he couldn't leave his bed without assistance. "Shut the door on your way out, for heaven's sake," he ordered the physician, when a few new maids arrived with buckets of water and towels to clean the mess he had caused. He didn't care about receiving an audience while the door was still open. All he wanted was to shut himself in the dark room again.