A faint stench of sweat and city dust clings to Markus as he sprawls across the bed, too tired to move after fighting a rodent of abnormal size.

  “Maybe I can sleep for an hour, then…” he mumbles—then the thought hits him like a slap.

  He still hasn’t bought Liddle a bed.

  Of all the things he was supposed to do today, that was the one that mattered.

  “Hey, Liddle,” he calls weakly, trying to sit up. “How do you feel about going out again? We can finally get you that bed.”

  Liddle steps closer, frowning.

  “You look really tired,” she says softly.

  “I’m just a little worn out from fighting that rat,” Markus mutters. “But I can be ready soon.”

  Before he can try again, Liddle reaches out and presses her hand gently to his forehead—cool and steady.

  “You’re really warm,” she murmurs. “Are humans supposed to be this hot?”

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Markus says, trying to get up. But the effort drags at him, heavier than it should.

  “I just need some water.”

  He staggers toward the sink, gripping the counter as his vision swims. His legs tremble beneath him, but he forces himself on.

  By the time he reaches the doorway, his body gives out.

  His knee buckles. The glass slips from his fingers.

  Water splashes across his shirt as he crashes to the floor, cold and clumsy.

  With a groan, Markus drags himself back toward the bed, fingers clawing at the blanket like it’s a lifeline.

  “I might have a light fever,” he mutters.

  “It’s okay, Markus. I’ve got you.”

  Liddle tucks the blankets around him, then quietly refills the cup and sets it on the dresser beside the bed.

  Liddle closes her eyes, channeling a faint thread of mana until her palm frosts over.

  “I’ve never felt lucky to be an ice demon before,” she says, gently placing her hand on Markus’s forehead. “But maybe this’ll help bring your fever down.”

  For a moment, the chill eases the heat burning under his skin. Then Liddle lifts the cup to his lips, helping him drink slowly.

  The front door creaks open.

  “Hello, everybody! Sorry that took so long—it was a mess,” Alexia calls as she steps inside.

  Liddle’s head snaps toward the sound. “I’m glad you’re here—Markus is broken,” she blurts, her voice tight with panic.

  “What?” Alexia blinks, already hurrying closer.

  Liddle motions for her to follow. Alexia rushes down the hall—then stops cold at the sight of Markus pale and drenched in sweat. She doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong.

  “Liddle,” she says gently, “can you give us a minute?”

  Liddle hesitates, then nods, slipping out and shutting the door softly behind her.

  Alexia exhales, crossing her arms. “I told you keeping the Mahoishi on like that was a bad idea. You didn’t believe me. You never do.”

  Her voice softens as she steps to his side. “Don’t worry—everyone overextends their mana at least once. Just stay in bed. And whatever you do, don’t turn your Mahoishi back on. I know that’s hard for a hero like you, but please… just rest.”

  Markus tries to sit up, wincing.

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  “But the rat—it’s still out there,” Markus protests.

  Alexia crosses her arms. “You saw it? Alright. I’ll report it to the Alien Department. But you—” she leans forward and pokes his forehead lightly—“you stay put and try not to die in the meantime. Got it?”

  She pulls a carton of chicken broth from the fridge and sets it on the stove, turning the heat to low. Moving quickly, she lays onions, carrots, potatoes, garlic, and ginger on the counter.

  Liddle wanders into the kitchen, blinking at the sudden brightness.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asks.

  Alexia hands her a knife with a grin. “You can start by chopping these.” She points to the onions, carrots, and potatoes. “I’ll handle the garlic and ginger.”

  Liddle nods and gets to work, focused and precise.

  “Oh—nice,” Alexia says, raising an eyebrow. “That’s some pretty decent chopping. Have you done this before?”

  Liddle shakes her head. “No. I never had the chance to cook before.”

  Alexia pulls a raw chicken from the fridge, still wrapped in plastic. “So… does Markus deserve some chicken in his soup?”

  “He was very brave fighting that rat,” Liddle says earnestly. “This can be how I say thank you.”

  Alexia smirks. “You want to cut it, then?”

  Liddle nods, uncertain, and takes the chicken in both hands. She stares at it like it personally offended her. Then—without hesitation—she stabs it directly in the breast.

  Alexia freezes.

  “Um… Liddle?” she says, fighting back a laugh. “You know the chicken’s already dead, right?”

  Liddle blinks at the carcass, still confused, then slowly sets the knife down.

  “I don’t… know how to get around the bones,” she admits quietly.

  Alexia gives her a sympathetic smirk and gently takes the chicken back.

  “No worries. You’ll get it next time. Watch closely.”

  She sets the bird on the cutting board and unwraps it, rolling up her sleeves. With practiced movements, she finds the joint at the thigh and makes a clean slice through it.

  “See here?” Alexia tilts the meat slightly. “You don’t have to force it. The joints are like little puzzle pieces—they want to come apart.”

  Liddle leans in, eyes wide.

  Alexia continues, cutting through the breast and separating it cleanly.

  “Cut along the bone, not through it. Follow the shape. Let the knife do the work.”

  Liddle nods slowly, soaking in every motion.

  “I didn’t know it was so… gentle,” she says.

  Alexia chuckles. “It can be. Or it can be like stabbing it in the heart. Both get the job done, I guess.”

  That earns the smallest smile from Liddle.

  Soon, the chicken hits the skillet, and the sizzle fills the quiet kitchen.

  “You two have gotten pretty close,” Alexia says, watching her with a faint smile.

  Liddle keeps her eyes on the pan, flipping a piece carefully.

  “Oh… yeah. I don’t know, there’s something about him. He’s easy to talk to. I feel safe around him.”

  “I hope he hasn’t been too much for you,” Alexia says gently. “He didn’t make a lot of friends. Always stuck in his own head. It only got worse after his parents died.”

  Before Liddle can answer, Alexia pours the finished stew into a bowl and hands it to her.

  “Mind giving this to him? I’ll grab more water.”

  Liddle nods and carries it carefully down the hall.

  “Thank you,” Markus murmurs, taking the bowl in both hands.

  She sits beside him as he takes a careful sip, steam curling past his face.

  He shakes his head. “No, it’s good. Really good.”

  Her cheeks flush. “Well… make sure you tell Alexia she did good work.”

  Liddle wipes her hands on a towel and steadies her breath as she carries the warm bowl to Markus.

  “Alexia taught me how to make this,” she says, offering it to him.

  Alexia steps into the room, grinning. “You two are getting dangerously cute. Someone should’ve kissed someone.”

  “Oh—will that help heal someone?” Liddle asks, raising an eyebrow.

  Markus chokes on his soup. “Let’s not test that theory,” he says once he recovers, taking another bite. “Still… I hope I haven’t been too much trouble for you two.”

  “No more than usual,” Alexia giggles, reaching over to pat his head.

  Markus chuckles softly, then murmurs, “Thank you.”

  “Hey, Liddle’s learning how to make soup, so she can help the next time you get yourself sick,” Alexia says with a wink.

  Liddle blinks, confused.

  “Not the soup,” Markus adds, glancing at her. “Thank you for being here. Being sick sucks less with you two around.”

  “Oh, look at you, being soft,” Alexia teases.

  “Don’t rub it in,” Markus mutters, trying—and failing—not to hide his smile.

  “I’m just glad that illness finally made you take a break,” Alexia says as she heads for the door. “Don’t be afraid to ask if you need anything. My room’s the one next to yours. Just call me.”

  Bed. Markus’s eyes widen in sudden realization. “Oh—right. We were supposed to get you a bed. If you want, you can still go with Alexia before the stores close, and—”

  “It’s okay,” Liddle says softly, settling down on the pillow Markus had set out for her. “We can do that later. For now… I want to be here for you.”

  He watches her curl up beside him, her eyes already drifting shut.

  Maybe being cared for isn’t so bad after all.