I still recall the surreal serenity of the moment: Luke, his raven-black hair a tousled masterpiece, lay sleeping on the hospital couch. His steady breaths and the soft rise and fall of his chest lent him an air of regal calm. Yet, as I sat there, a disconcerting thought struck me—despite the fresh, clinical environment, he hadn't bathed in two whole days.
As a modern woman armed with a treasure trove of skincare and hygiene products, I felt like an unwashed potato compared to his pristine, albeit naturally enigmatic, aura. With a mixture of concern and exasperation, as I stood up while dragging the stand of my IV, I reached out and gently tapped his arm.
"U-Uhm, Luke, you should wake up," I murmured, my voice trembling between affection and urgency.
His hazelnut-brown eyes fluttered open, the lingering veil of sleep giving way to a warm, disarming gaze. Then, in a gesture that both startled and enchanted me, he pressed my hand against his cheek. His skin, soft and inexplicably warm, seemed to melt away my rational thoughts.
Sir?!?
My brain short-circuited as the warmth of his skin seeped into my palm. His expression was completely relaxed as if this was a totally normal thing to do.
I yanked my hand away and practically threw myself back onto the bed, burying my burning face in the pillow.
Oh no.
Oh no, no, no.
This was dangerous. This prince was dangerous.
I needed to distract myself—fast. And that's when it hit me. He still needed to shower.
I sat up, cleared my throat, and pointed at him with newfound determination. "Luke. You need to shower."
He blinked at me, caught between sleep and wakefulness. "Why?" he asked, his tone curious and gentle.
"Because you haven't bathed since we got here," I replied, the words tumbling out in a mix of exasperation and care.
He frowned, giving himself a quick sniff.
"I do not smell," he declared, as though this were the most natural state of affairs.
"That's—" I hesitated. Okay, fair, but that's not the point. He just stared.
I took a deep breath, trying again. "Look. I have an IV, so I can only wipe myself down. But you? No excuses. Go. Bathe."
"In Valeraine, we use purification magic instead of bathing. It cleanses all impurities and erases any odor." After a moment of hesitation, Luke's voice softened into a reluctant sigh.
I held up my hand in a silent plea, "Stop. Just stop. You're in Korea now. You have to do things the normal way."
Conceding, he finally murmured, "If that is what is expected in this realm… then I shall comply."
With that, he moved toward the bathroom, leaving me to savor a fleeting moment of relief as the sound of running water filled the room.
Time slowed to a crawl as I tried to distract myself by scrolling through my phone and sending a notice of absence to Myeong. Then, the bathroom door creaked open. I looked up—and instantly regretted it.
There, emerging from the mist like a figure from a dream, was Luke. Steam billowed around him, lending an ethereal quality to his damp, dark hair that clung artfully to his forehead. Water droplets traced the contours of his chiseled jawline and followed the lines of his broad, sculpted chest and abs—all barely hidden beneath a towel that seemed as if it might give way at any second.
Abs.
He had abs.
Not just the regular "oh, I do light workouts" abs, but actual, sculpted Greek-statue-level abs.
I smacked my hand over my eyes so fast I nearly knocked out my IV. Still, I couldn't entirely avert my gaze—my fingers trembled as they covered my eyes while a few curious peeks betrayed my interest.
"Luke!" I blurted, half-embarrassed and half-panicked. "Change your clothes immediately! That towel isn't secure—I swear it looks like it might fall off any moment!"
"Sena?" Luke's voice was gentle yet laced with confusion. "Are you alright?" He was about to walk towards my bedside while I panicked internally.
Because what in the historical romance novel was this?!? This wasn't fair. This was a crime against my already fragile heart.
"Nope," I squeaked, eyes still shielded but betraying my anxious glances. "Nope. Not at all."
He hesitated, then took a step closer. "You look unwell. Should I call a nurse—" With that look?! No can do, Sir! If I almost fainted with that heavenly sculpture, what more are the normal people here?
"No!" I blurted out and pointed to the duffle bag. "Just—clothes! Now!"
Luke turned to the large duffel bag that sat near the door. I had noticed earlier that it contained not only his towel and the clothes he had just shed but also a fresh set of undergarments and new attire.
However, it was painfully obvious that, with his broad and statuesque build, every piece was far too small—almost as if they were designed for someone far more delicate.
With methodical precision, he began to fold his recently worn garments.
"You taught me before," he explained in a tone that betrayed no hint of mockery, "that used clothes should be folded properly before being placed in the laundry."
I raised an incredulous eyebrow. "You folded your dirty clothes?"
"Yes," he said, nodding with a hint of pride. "However, I failed to bring additional attire, so I have used the towel instead." He said while pouting and checking on the other garments.
I bit my lip, stifling laughter at the absurdity of it all. I remembered now, I told him that they're not in a castle and no servants will assist them so they have to tidy up their own clothes and just put them in a laundry bag or basket in my laundry room.
The situation escalated into full-blown comedy when Luke attempted to wear a set of modern clothes—only for them to rip spectacularly due to his broad frame.
In his resourceful, if not entirely practical, approach to the wardrobe malfunction, he eventually resorted to wearing Grandma Hyejin's loose, floral dress, in short, a Granny dress. The dress, a relic imbued with old-world charm, hung comically on his imposing frame, swaying as if caught in an unseen breeze.
Minutes later, Luke reemerged, now attired in the oversized granny dress paired with neon-pink rubber clogs that clashed outrageously with his otherwise dignified air. I couldn't help but dissolve into peals of uncontrollable laughter.
"Luke," I wheezed, "you look like someone from an old kung fu movie."
He cocked his head, confusion mingling with his natural regal composure. "I do not understand," he replied, his tone earnest and puzzled.
Tears of laughter blurred my vision. His slightly oversized granny dress, combined with the clogs and his confused noble expression, was too much.
Still struggling to breathe, I patted the chair beside my bed. "Just—come here. I'll dry your hair before you start terrorizing tenants."
Luke settled beside me with the grace of a true gentleman. I grabbed a fluffy towel and began drying his still-damp hair, each stroke a mix of care and mischievous delight.
"Should I sit crossed-leg now or just my usual way of sitting?" He asked and now I really can't stop laughing. This man's innocence is incomparable.
"No, just sit normally. You don't have to act like a noble granny after all. We're in a free-will world, you know." I said in between my laughter, my eyes teared up from laughing while Luke just crossed his arms and legs.
"I-I think I have to cross my legs, I-I can feel the air on my legs, it is somehow weird," I started to tap his shoulder as I laughed. I thought our alone time would be awkward, but things happened differently.
Unable to resist further amusement, I snatched a hair tie and playfully twisted the top of his hair into a tiny, ridiculous-looking sprout.
Luke reached up, his fingers grazing the unexpected style as he frowned in puzzled curiosity. "What… is this?"
"A warrior's style," I declared, adopting a mock-serious tone that belied the bubbling laughter within.
"A symbol of strength?" he inquired, nodding as if my explanation were the most natural revelation.
"Absolutely," I affirmed, the absurdity of it all only deepening my adoration.
Just then, the hospital door creaked open once more, and a nurse stepped inside. One glance at Luke—complete with the granny dress, neon clogs, and warrior sprout—was enough for her to turn on her heel and exit without a word.
Luke's eyes widened slightly. "Did I offend her with my attire?" he asked, his voice imbued with concern.
I was laughing too hard to respond immediately, managing only to choke out, "No… no, you're perfectly cute!"
A soft smile tugged at his lips. "Then I am glad to bring you joy," he said quietly, his words melting my heart.
As if the absurdity of the day weren't overflowing enough, he added, "Sena, if you'd allow me, I'd like to help with the cleaning. I will dampen a towel and wash it with soap so you won't have to worry about cleaning yourself. I know your IV is still connected, and I wouldn't want it to be accidentally pulled out."
"Y-You don't have to! I-I can do it myself," I awkwardly said but he just left to get the small towel, and I heard the water pouring down the sink.
His care was a soothing balm to my troubled heart. Even after a day of chaos, my heart—tumbling with both worry and joy—warmed from his kindness. I felt torn between delight at his gentle nature and a constant fear of more mishaps. Then I wondered, was it really only kindness, or was something more stirring behind his gentle actions toward me?
Luke was more than what people call in a relationship a "green flag." He was far beyond even the greenest forest we know. I couldn't imagine him having any dark side at all. As the days went by, I saw more of his sincere actions—the way he cared for me, his simple innocence, his kindness to everyone, and the genuine warmth he shared. Every gesture was heartfelt.
Deep down, I knew I didn't want this to end. At first, his actions felt strange and new, but slowly they became a cherished part of my everyday life.
In that unforgettable, almost magical moment, I soaked in every detail—the neatly folded clothes, the comically small garments, and every thoughtful act from this man who was as impossible as he was endearing.
Luke was simply too kind, too gentle, too perfect.
I knew that one day he might vanish, taking his irresistible charm with him. But right now, as I peeked at him through shaking fingers, I held on to the wild, beautiful madness of our present.
For this moment, amid the noisy chaos of hospital halls and life's little absurdities, I allowed myself to bask in the warm glow of our shared, unpredictable world.