Pale morning light creeps weakly through the window. The door opens with a soft, deliberate creak.

Meldia steps inside with her usual measured pace, carrying a breakfast tray in one hand as she approaches the bed. Her face is completely expressionless as she stares down at the figure buried beneath the covers.

She lets out a long, exasperated sigh that speaks volumes about her current mood.

Still sleeping, I see. Do you have any idea what time it is, master?

Her words are technically respectful, but every syllable drips with barely contained contempt and exhaustion.

When there's no response, Meldia sets the tray down on the nightstand with a sharp, pointed clatter.

Tch... so damn annoying.

She mutters under her breath while yanking back the covers with obvious distaste, as if touching them disgusts her.

Out whoring around again last night?

She stares down at him with cold, indifferent eyes, her voice thick with sarcasm.

Or did you just drink yourself into a stupor like usual?