Magnus, once again… Oh my god.
Magnus once again, lounging on his throne, staring into empty space.
He thought for a moment. Even though life had been pretty "busy" lately—fights, kings, demons, collapsing dimensions—it still didn't feel real.
This world, with its magic, titles, and talking swords, felt like a stage someone shoved him onto mid-performance.
His father asking for help with work.
His mother nagging him to finish his food.
His sister begging him to give up the game console, dangling her allowance like bait.
They weren't here.
They hadn't been here since he woke up in this place.
And honestly… he was starting to forget their faces.
Were they even real anymore? Or were they just part of a dream he couldn't wake from?
Magnus exhaled, a soft breath escaping his lips.
Until—
A literal dish of food smacked his face.
It didn't just fall. It flew, like it had a personal grudge. The plate wobbled off his cheek, spinning in the air before crashing somewhere off to the side.
"…Ow," he muttered flatly, not moving. A carrot slice slid down his forehead.
"I am sorry, Your Majesty!" came the familiar voice of his overly dramatic chef.
Gustav, tall and broad like a warrior, stood by the doorway with both hands trembling—one holding a ladle like a weapon, the other clutching a towel like it was a banner of surrender. His muscular arms didn't match his teary eyes, and his expression looked as if he'd just insulted a god.
"I-it was an accident!" he cried, falling to his knees. "My hand slipped from the divine weight of seasoning! Curse my strength!"
Magnus wiped the carrot slice off his forehead and stared at it. "You know, most people just knock."
"I did knock! Twelve times!" Gustav sniffled. "But Your Majesty didn't answer, and the silence—it was like being rejected by fate itself!"
Marianne groaned from the side. "Don't encourage him."
Magnus sighed again, deeper this time. "How did a guy who looks like he could wrestle a minotaur end up cooking soup?"
"I have wrestled a minotaur once!" Gustav declared, slapping his chest with pride. "She was my mentor's pet. Very sweet and Loved tomatoes."
Marianne facepalmed. "Why do I even try?"
Suddenly, the door opened again.
"The door has been very busy nowadays." Magnus said, staring at the person who just entered the room.
It was Renaya, the elf who left without a word and now came without a word.
"Greetings, Magn-" She put her hands on her mouth, then slowly removed them.
".. Greetings, your majesty."
"As if that would change the way you talk." Magnus replied.
Renaya stood by the doorway, her elegant posture stiff with hesitation. The usual sharpness in her emerald eyes had dulled, as if weighed down by something heavier than pride.
"I... apologize for the sudden visit," she said, her tone measured, formal—too formal for someone who once threw a dagger at him mid-conversation.
Magnus raised a brow. "Didn't you say last time, and I quote, 'If I see your face again, I'll gouge my own eyes out'?"
She looked away. "That was before I realized your face was… tolerable."
"Progress," Magnus muttered, grabbing another carrot from his hair and flicking it to the floor.
Marianne crossed her arms. "Tolerable is better than repulsive, I guess."
Gustav gasped as if he'd just witnessed a scandal. "How dare you insult His Majesty's symmetrical perfection!"
"Sure, sure." She said and swiftly approched Magnus, Putting some kind of powder in his tea.
"What's this?" He asked, staring at his tea.
"Poison. To kill you." Renaya replied.
Magnus blinked. Once.
Twice.
Then slowly turned his head to look at her.
"…Is that so?" he said, voice as flat as his expression.
Renaya nodded, utterly deadpan. "It's mint powder. For digestion. But calling it poison was more fun."
Magnus stared at the tea again, then back at her.
"Do all elves have this… stupid sense of humor, or is it just the ones that used to want me dead?"
"I still kind of want you dead," she said calmly. "But only if you keep dodging serious conversations."
Marianne rubbed her temples. "Why are all of you like this?"
Gustav, meanwhile, had already dropped to one knee in front of Magnus. "Shall I taste the tea for poison, Your Majesty? I have trained for this day. My taste buds are licensed."
"No one's drinking the tea except me," Magnus muttered. "And if I am poisoned, at least I'll finally get some sleep."
Renaya raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather be poisoned than deal with your responsibilities?"
"Yes," Magnus answered without hesitation, already sipping the tea.
He drank the entire cup.
They all waited in anticipation.
A minute passed, then two. Slowly like that.
Half an hour had passed.
"So, the Poison Dragon's Breath doesn't works on you either." Renaya said, rubbing her chin like the thinker.
"That's a cool ability!" Marianne gasped.
"But. Why are you so hell bent on killing me?" Magnus stared at Renaya.
Renaya paused for a moment. Fragments of memories of a man bringing destruction filled her head. Corpses of dead rose, like they had waited for that exact moment. One killed the other, the other killed another.
The world turned... Chaotic.
She then indifferently said."No reason. I just wanna try them."
"...Sure." Magnus replied...