After a while, someone passed by the door.

Then, a few minutes later, a maid entered.

She placed a fresh cup of coffee on the table, then looked down at Kane.

Her expression didn’t change.

"If you’re going to lie here," she said flatly, "then at least don’t make a mess."

Then her eyes hardened slightly.

"And if you dirty Her Highness’s room with your failure, I’ll throw you out myself."

Kane blinked.

He... didn’t argue.

The maid placed the tray gently on the table, the faint clink of porcelain breaking the quiet of the room. She straightened and spoke with practiced calm, though there was a hint of casual ease in her tone.

"Your Highness, would you like chocolate mousse... or perhaps red velvet cake? There’s also vanilla with strawberries. Or I could make a fruit tart if you prefer."

On the bed, Elara—who had very much been "sleeping" all afternoon—shifted slightly. Without opening her eyes fully, she pushed herself up, her movements slow but deliberate. The moment she sat upright, she reached for the plate without hesitation, as if the question had never really required an answer.

She began tasting each piece, one after another, small bites taken with quiet focus.

"It’s good," she said simply.

The maid watched her, arms folded loosely, observing not just her reaction but her pace, her posture, her habits. There was a pause—just long enough to feel intentional—before she spoke again.

"Your Highness, starting tomorrow, you’ll need to exercise."

Elara paused mid-bite. Her hand, still holding the fork, hovered in the air. Slowly, she lifted her other hand—the one bound with the iron chain—and gave it a slight shake, the metal giving a soft, dull rattle.

"I’m a captive," she said flatly. "I don’t think exercise is necessary."

The maid didn’t look convinced. In fact, she tilted her head slightly, studying Elara’s face with a kind of blunt honesty that most people wouldn’t dare show.

"Your Highness... have you looked at your face these past few days?"

Elara took another bite before answering, completely unfazed.

"Yeah. It’s gotten a bit chubby."

The maid immediately shook her head.

"Chubby? No." She crossed her arms properly now. "It’s fat."

That made Elara stop.

Slowly, she turned her head and looked at the maid.

The maid looked right back at her.

There was no hesitation. No fear. Just a steady, unimpressed stare.

Elara narrowed her eyes slightly.

The maid didn’t move.

For a few seconds, the room turned into a silent standoff—two people staring at each other without blinking, neither willing to back down.

Then Elara spoke, her tone clipped.

"...Fine."

From the side of the room, Kane—who had been quietly present—raised his eyebrows slightly. He hadn’t expected that. Not from her. Not with anyone.

The maid gave a small, satisfied nod, as if that single word had settled everything.

"Good. Finish this," she said, gesturing toward the desserts, "and then we’ll have dinner."

Elara frowned slightly, glancing down at the plate before looking back at her.

"Shouldn’t dinner come first... and then dessert?"

The maid nodded immediately.

"Yes, Your Highness. Normally."

There was a brief pause before she added, almost casually,

"But you’ve been sleeping too much. And I was already making this cake, so I thought... you should taste it first. To check if it turned out well."

Elara slowly lowered her fork, looking at her with a blank expression.

"So I’m your guinea pig?"

The maid shook her head quickly, though there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"No, Your Highness. I would never let anyone else taste something this good before you."

Elara stared at her for a moment longer, then pointed at her with the spoon still in her hand.

"How is it that I’ve never met you before?"

The maid straightened slightly.

"Well... I was in the Emperor’s palace. And after... everything that happened," she said carefully, "I started working here as a maid. So our paths never crossed."

Elara’s gaze sharpened just a little.

"You’re a Beast Knight, aren’t you?"

The maid didn’t deny it. She simply nodded.

"Yes."

"Then why are you working as a maid?"

There was no embarrassment in her expression. No shame. Only calm acceptance.

"I was hiding my identity," she said. "After we killed the Emperor."

Elara’s eyes lingered on her, unreadable.

"How?" she asked.

The maid exhaled softly, her voice lowering just a fraction, as if the memory itself carried weight.

"It wasn’t difficult," she said. "After his death, everything fell into chaos. Orders stopped making sense. Command chains broke. People were too busy choosing sides or saving themselves."

She paused, then continued more quietly.

"A Beast Knight without a master is just... a weapon without a hand to guide it. So I stopped being one."

Her gaze flickered briefly toward the door, then back to Elara.

"I dirtied my uniform, threw away anything that could identify me, and took the lowest position I could find. No one looks twice at a maid carrying trays and cleaning floors."

There was a small, almost ironic curve to her lips.

"And honestly... it was safer that way. Strong people are noticed. And noticed people are either used... or eliminated."

Elara listened without interrupting, her expression unchanged, but her mind already processing every word.

The maid met her gaze steadily.

"So I stayed quiet. Watched. Waited."

A pause.

"Until I found someone worth serving again."

Then Elara paused mid-bite, her brows drawing together ever so slightly. She turned her head and looked back at the maid, her gaze narrowing just a fraction.

"...Were you talking about me?" she asked.

The maid didn’t even flinch. Her expression remained calm, almost too calm, as if she had already expected the question.

"No, Your Highness," she replied smoothly. "I was just joking around with you "

Elara held her gaze for a moment longer, as if weighing the answer, then gave a small, dismissive nod.

"Hmm. That makes sense."

She didn’t push it further.

Instead, she shifted her attention without warning, her thoughts moving on as quickly as they had paused.

"What’s for dinner?" she asked.

The maid straightened slightly, answering without hesitation.

"Boiled vegetables, with broccoli as the main dish. There’s also salted fish... and another dish the chef prepared—hotpot, I believe." She paused briefly before adding, "You used to like it. You were the one who gave them the recipe."

The moment the word left her mouth—

Elara moved.

She stood up from the bed almost instantly, the earlier laziness gone as if it had never existed. She ran a hand through her slightly messy hair, fixing it quickly, her movements sharp and purposeful now.

"You said hotpot?" she asked.

Her tone had changed.

There was a clear shift—subtle, but undeniable.

"Where is it?"

The maid blinked once, then looked at her carefully.

"Your Highness... you just had dessert."

Elara didn’t even hesitate.

She looked at her with complete seriousness, as if what she was about to say was a universal truth.

"Dessert goes to a different stomach," she said. "And food goes to another."

A small pause.

"Bring it."

The maid stared at her for half a second... then nodded, accepting it without argument.

"Extra chili?" she asked. "On the spicier side?"

Elara gave a short nod.

"Yeah."