Medusa’s eyes quivered as she stood frozen by the doorway.
She could never really get used to their romantic moments, no matter how many times she saw them.
The sight of Edna’s lips pressed against Azel’s skin, her voice so soft and intimate — it pierced through her heart like tiny needles.
But then she forced herself to breathe, to calm down.
She was Medusa.
She belonged to him.
’If I can’t have him to myself now... I’ll just do so at the Academy,’ she thought, gripping the tray in her hands tightly.
She had done her research back in the Empire, flipping through books and speaking to a few people.
Servants could be brought along to the Academy.
That was all she needed to know.
She would make sure of it. No matter what, she would follow him.
"Master, I brought some food for you," she said finally, her tone carefully controlled.
She walked forward, her hips swaying naturally, and set the tray on the small table beside the bed before settling herself down on the edge of it.
Edna helped Azel sit upright.
His movements were sluggish, he didn’t even know why his body ached when it wasn’t even his physical body that got beat up by Kyone, but his smile remained.
"He’s tired, could you feed him?" Edna asked suddenly.
Medusa’s eyes snapped wide. "Really?"
"Yes," Edna replied with a small, teasing smile tugging at her lips.
"I just came to watch over him since he was sleeping. Make sure he eats."
The expression Medusa wore shifted instantly — gone was the restrained, careful sobriety.
In its place bloomed a wide-eyed look of delight, as if someone had just handed her the most precious gift in the world.
Edna rose gracefully from the bed.
She leaned down, brushing her lips across Azel’s cheek, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
"Stay safe, love," she whispered, her voice trembling faintly with affection before she turned and walked out.
The chamber door closed gently behind her, leaving only the soft sound of Lillia’s breathing as the child remained fast asleep.
The room felt warmer now.
Now, it was just him and Medusa.
"Master~" Her voice turned playful again, carrying that lilting charm she often used only with him.
She picked up the tray and held it proudly. "I cooked this with all my love and affection."
She uncovered the dish.
A fragrant wave of steam rose into the air — thick broth, rich and hearty, filled with slices of tender snow-hare meat, soft white potatoes, and strands of golden winter herbs that shimmered faintly under the light.
Alongside it was fresh black bread, still warm from the oven, and a drizzle of melted butter.
"The maids told me that your first hunt is your most important day," Medusa explained with a mischievous grin. "So I should feed you properly afterward."
Azel’s stomach rumbled at the smell, his grin spreading despite his exhaustion. "I see... I killed a lot of beasts, so you’ll have to feed me a lot."
"Yes, Master~ Open wide." She scooped a spoonful of the stew, blowing gently on it before bringing it to his lips.
He obeyed, taking it in with little thought — and then his eyes widened.
It was tasty... very much so.
"...This is amazing."
Her eyes sparkled. "Hehe, I’m glad! I worked hard."
She scooped another spoonful, leaning closer as if feeding him was some kind of sacred act.
"I saw you in the kitchen when I came," Azel said between mouthfuls.
His voice was softer now, amused. "You must really enjoy yourself here."
Medusa didn’t answer immediately.
She only offered him another spoonful, waiting until he swallowed before she finally spoke.
"The people here are very good," she said quietly. "They’re kind and nice, Master. And I have to learn."
She dipped the spoon again, fed him again, and continued with determination in her voice. "I want to become very important to you. And useful as well. We can even go hunting together tomorrow."
Azel chuckled tiredly, his arm moving to wrap around her slender waist, pulling her closer.
"You’re already very important to me, Meda."
Her cheeks flared red at the nickname.
She lowered her gaze, flustered, though her lips trembled with the beginnings of a smile.
She kept feeding him spoon after spoon, her heart racing faster each time his eyes softened at her efforts.
Finally, she set the empty bowl down with care, turning her full attention to him.
"And anyone that tries to kill Master..." Her voice dropped suddenly, her crimson eyes narrowing with a venomous edge. "...will die by my hand."
The chill in her tone made Azel’s spine prickle.
For just a moment, her aura leaked through and he shivered, she hadn’t lost her edge at all.
He exhaled slowly, leaning his forehead against hers. "I know you’ll protect me. But don’t overdo it, Meda."
She blinked, stunned by the gentleness of his words.
Then she nodded quickly, burying her flustered face against his chest.
...
Far away, the sound of a sneeze echoed across the icy streets of the city.
"Dante, did you just sneeze?" one of the hunters asked, raising a brow.
The man in question — tall, broad-shouldered, with flowing silver hair and crimson eyes that burned with quiet intensity wiped his nose with the back of his glove.
His long coat fluttered in the wind, lined with white fur.
"No..." Dante muttered, his brows knitting. "I just thought I misheard something."
The rest of his companions, four in total, turned their attention back to the local hunter who had approached them.
This group was no ordinary band — they were the Furious Five, known across the Winter Region as the most dangerous hunting party alive.
The local hunter bowed nervously.
"I was only delivering the news, sir. Today was our Prince’s first Hunt, and he successfully hunted thirty Arctic bears and ten ice wolves — a staggering amount."
The Furious Five exchanged glances.
A low whistle cut through the air.
"That’s not just good. That’s absurd," one of them said.
"Not bad at all," another murmured, stroking his beard.
"I do hope he’s handsome," the lone female among them added with a teasing grin, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
"You always did go for younger men," one of her companions snorted, elbowing her in the side.
Laughter rippled briefly among them, but Dante did not join in.
His expression was rigid, almost pale.
His fingers twitched as if he wanted to dig them into his own scalp.
’HOW?! HOW?! HOW?!’