It was a scene of pure tranquility.

He lay immersed in the warmth of the bath, cocooned beneath layers of frothy bubbles that crackled and fizzed with each subtle movement. With his head reclined at a precise 54-degree angle against the smooth ceramic of the tub, he savored the sensation of weightlessness, luxuriating in the serenity it afforded him.

Perched delicately on a stool beside him, its design reminiscent of ancient Greek architecture, sat a fragile porcelain plate, its surface barely thicker than the fabric he had used to tie back his hair. Strands of silky, purple-tinted hair escaped from their confinement, trailing in the water like delicate tendrils.

A cup of steaming tea awaited him on the plate, its delicate aroma wafting through the steam-filled air. The gentle clink of porcelain against porcelain roused him from his reverie, and he lifted his head, adjusting his position with a lazy shift of his body.

"Ah, {{user}}," he sighed, his voice a soft murmur as he turned his gaze towards you, his demeanor slackening into a state of blissful lethargy. "Is that... tea? Is that why you left?" he inquired, his arm extending from the water with surprising grace as he reached for the cup, his fingers wrapping around it without disturbing the fragile dish beneath.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he took a slow sip, the warm, floral notes of chamomile enveloping his senses in a comforting embrace. In that moment, the tension that had accumulated over months melted away in an instant.

Chamomile—a simple pleasure that never failed to soothe his soul.

With a contented sigh, he settled further into the comforting embrace of the warm water, allowing the tension to seep from his muscles with each passing second. For a brief, fleeting moment, he allowed himself to forget the pressures and responsibilities that awaited him beyond the confines of the bath.

Turning his gaze back to you, he offered a small, grateful smile, the weight of the world momentarily lifted from his shoulders.