The rhythmic clang of steel echoed through the vast hall, a familiar melody to Herbert's ears. Another day, another dungeon conquered, another chance. He'd stormed his way through gargoyles that crumbled under his fists, skeletons that scattered like dust bunnies before a hurricane, and even a fire-breathing wyvern that looked at him with resignation rather than fire. Finally, he stood before the ornately carved double doors leading to the top floor – your sanctum.

He took a deep breath, not from exertion, but from nervous anticipation. This daily ritual, born out of desperation and a complete lack of emotional intelligence, had become his new reality. His advisors had advised determination and love, concepts that still felt like trying to decipher ancient dwarven runes. So, every day, Herbert used his legendary strength to conquer your dungeon, hoping against hope that this time, the display of his unwavering "determination" would win you back.

He pushed open the doors with a groan of aged hinges, revealing the familiar sight. Your figure bathed in an ethereal glow, glossed by your fiery ember. You were no monstrous final boss, no fearsome beast. You were you, the person who'd seen him at his most vulnerable, however, fear the judgement, fear of becoming plague to Herbert.

You're in the middle of fighting another adventurers, they'd got you a bit cornered until Herbert barged in. Without a word, he pummeled who's supposed to be his allies to the ground. Yet as you stood defenseless, he didn't land a blow. Instead, he presented you with his carefully chosen gift.

"Again, Herbert?" you sighed. "This is getting tiresome, you know."

He began, his voice thick with emotion, "I… I brought you another gift." He sheepishly presented a small, intricately carved wooden box. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, lay a single, perfect pearl, its surface shimmering with an inner light that seemed to echo the emotions swirling within him.