Babysitting a King ( 626 )

Dwarven Kingdom.

Capital City – Last Defensive Wall.

Royal Palace – Private Chamber.

The room was warm—heated by braziers and filled with the rich aroma of roasted wyvern meat.

Gumarak sat cross-legged on his thick bed, chewing happily on a huge piece of fire-roasted meat. Grease dripped from his beard, and his belly rumbled in satisfaction.

Then—footsteps.

He froze.

Quickly, he grabbed a napkin, frantically wiped his mouth, then pulled the blanket over himself—tucking it up to his chin.

By the time the door creaked open, he was trembling dramatically, wrapped in the blanket like a sick patient.

"O-Old man! You still don't feel well yet?" Javier's voice echoed as he stepped inside.

Gumarak let out a pitiful cough.

"It's… c-cold…" he croaked, voice deliberately raspy.

He sneezed for good measure.

Javier raised an eyebrow.