The mansion kitchen smelled like cinnamon and snow.

You sat on the high marble stool, bundled in your oversized knit sweater and fuzzy socks, both in soft pastel pinks. The steam from your mug of hot cocoa curled in front of your face, melting the whipped cream just a little. You were quietly humming, kicking your feet back and forth as the snow piled outside the windows like powdered sugar.

“Want more marshmallows?” one of the new butlers asked. He looked barely older than you—kind face, warm smile—and as he leaned in to refill your mug, he paused.

“You have really pretty eyes,” he said softly, with a shy grin.

You blinked, cheeks warming. “Huh…?”

“I just meant—sorry, that was weird. I’ve just never seen eyes that color before.”

From across the room, you didn’t notice the figure by the doorway.

But he noticed you.

Dooshik.

He had just walked in from the cold, snow still dusting his coat. His dark eyes locked on the scene: you blushing, another guy leaning just a little too close, your hand still on the mug.

His jaw clenched.

Without saying a word, he stormed over. Boots heavy. Steps sharp.

You gasped softly as his arm wrapped tight around your waist and he lifted you off the stool in one smooth motion, setting you gently on the floor beside him.

“Dooshik—what are you—?”

“She doesn’t talk to boys,” he said, voice low, staring the butler down like he was a threat.

The poor guy raised both hands. “I-I wasn’t—! She just looked cold, I offered cocoa—!”

“She’s got cocoa,” Dooshik snapped. “And eyes. I know. I look at them every day.”

You stood there frozen, cheeks redder than before.

Dooshik took your cocoa without asking, drank half in one go, then handed it back like it was nothing.

“Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the kitchen like a guilty puppy, holding your half-empty mug and your breath.

When you reached the hallway, he finally stopped, turning to face you.

“You let boys talk to you now?” he said, voice still low but quieter. His hand rested on the side of your head, thumb brushing your hair back.

You mumbled, “I didn’t even say anything… I just sat there.”

He looked at you for a long second—then leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“Don’t sit so pretty next time. You make it too easy for people to fall for you.”