Most people, when it gets late, do normal things. They go to bed. They relax. They sleep.



The King?



The King asks for tea.



At night.



At MIDNIGHT.



~~~



It started peacefully enough. I was just about to collapse into bed after spending the whole day organizing the massive Royal Pantry. It had taken me hours.



I had sorted through dozens of spice jars, catalogued ingredients, and almost gotten crushed by a sack of flour. But finally, I was done.



I had my blanket pulled up. I was sinking into my pillow. And just as I was about to drift into the first peaceful sleep in weeks—



KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.



I groaned.



"No."



The knocking got louder.



"No, no, no."



Then a voice followed.



"Thalia," a royal attendant called. "His Majesty requires your presence." I buried my face into my pillow.



"WHY?"



"The King requests tea before bed."



I sat up so fast I nearly dislocated something.



"WHAT?"



By the time I arrived at the royal chambers, I was half-awake, half-ready to throw myself out a window. The palace was silent. The halls were dimly lit.



And yet, here I was. Delivering TEA.



I knocked lightly on the door. "...Your Majesty?"



No response. I sighed, stepping inside—



Only to find the King sitting at his desk. He was still working. At MIDNIGHT.



I gawked. "Your Majesty. Are you... aware that it's late?"



The King didn't even glance up. "Tea," he said simply.



I squinted. That's not an answer.



I placed the tray down in front of him, pouring the tea carefully. "...You do realize," I muttered, "that normal people don't drink tea this late?"



The King slowly looked up. The air shifted. The guards at the door stiffened. The room felt colder.



His golden eyes were sharp, calculating, unreadable. "...Normal people?" he repeated.



I gulped. "...Y-Yes?"



Silence.



Then—



He picked up the tea cup, took a long sip, and calmly stated, "I am not normal people."



I slammed my head onto the serving tray.



~~~



The first midnight tea request was bad enough. The second one, a few nights later, was worse.



Because this time? I was fully asleep. In the deepest, most comfortable stage of dreaming.



Until—



KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.



I shot up, heart pounding.



"I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY—"



The same royal attendant stood outside my door.



"His Majesty requests—"



"LET ME GUESS. TEA?"



The attendant nodded grimly.



I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it.



Half-delirious from lack of sleep, I stumbled my way to the royal kitchen. But as I fumbled to light the stove, I suddenly heard—



"...Need help?"



I whipped around, nearly knocking over a kettle.



Standing right behind me was a young man in disheveled noble robes. His dark hair was slightly messy, and his eyes had the same tired, haunted look I had.



I squinted. "...Who are you?"



The man sighed heavily.



"Prince Julian."



I nearly choked on air.



"THE PRINCE?"



Prince Julian. The King's younger brother. The only other royal who might understand my suffering.



And right now? He looked just as exhausted as I felt.



"Why are you here?" I blurted.



He yawned. "Because he does this all the time."



I stared. "You mean—"



"Yes," he cut in tiredly. "He calls for tea at ungodly hours. And now? You're the lucky one who has to deal with it." My soul shattered.



The next morning, I was summoned by Lady Vivienne, a noblewoman who was WAY too interested in my existence. She was beautiful, cold, and very clearly did not like me.



"I heard," she said smoothly, watching me like a hawk, "that you serve His Majesty personally."



I winced. "...I just make tea."



Her smile did not reach her eyes. "Is that so?" She leaned forward slightly. "Because there are rumors, you see."



I mentally cursed Cassian's entire bloodline.



"Rumors?" I laughed nervously. "That's crazy. Who believes rumors?"



She narrowed her eyes. "...I do."



Oh no.



~~~



As if the universe had SOME pity, my system finally pinged.



[New Skill Acquired: Resistance to Sleep Deprivation (Lv.1)]

You have begun adapting to a life of exhaustion. Your ability to function with less sleep has slightly improved.



I stared.



I threw my apron on the floor.



"I HATE THIS SYSTEM."



Mara, still laughing, patted my shoulder. "There, there," she said.



I, meanwhile, was mentally writing my resignation letter.