Ivy’.Three days.It had been three full days since Mucus, yes, that unfortunate, round-bellied, perpetually sweaty kitchen assistant ate the meal I had made for the king. Three days since that man had stopped acting like the mildly tolerable, barely visible kitchen staff and had transformed into… whatever this obsession was.And now, each morning, as the sun peeked over the palace walls, I opened my door to find gifts. Roses, chocolates, even a poorly drawn portrait of me with the word “Angel” scribbled underneath in crooked letters.But the worst part?The notes.My beloved Ivy,The way your hands sliced those carrots stole my heart.The way you stirred that soup… divine.Let me serve you the way you served the stew—warm, hot, and forever.Yours in eternal hunger,Mucus.By the third day, I couldn’t take it anymore.I’d planned to keep ignoring him, hoping it was just a weird phase—maybe a prank from the other kitchen staff. But the desperation in his eyes every time I entered the k
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