Freya Laurent never thought a single sentence could change her life forever.

"Take this money and marry me."

She blinked, completely caught off guard.

A thick brown envelope was pushed across the table toward her. Her hazel eyes locked onto it, unable to look away. The word money spun in her head, making her slightly dizzy, her thoughts turning hazy.

What is this?

Money?

Is she... being proposed to?

Across from her sat a handsome man who looked undeniably wealthy. One leg crossed over the other, arms folded across his chest. He wore a dark blue suit that complemented his complexion perfectly. His face carried an air of confidence, though a trace of impatience flickered as he waited for her reaction.

On the other side of the sofa stood another man-tall, composed, dressed in a neat silver suit that looked anything but cheap. He had the air of a loyal assistant.

"Huh?" Freya was still out of it.

"This isn't a real marriage," the man said, his deep voice edged with impatience. "I'm offering you a formal contract. I'll pay you until the contract ends."

She looked him up and down. Not bad. Handsome. Rich.

The most tempting part-those two steel gray eyes, cold and sharp. Even his firm jaw, tan skin... Oh, and the dimples when he spoke. That almost felt unfair.

Wait.

"A contract marriage?" she frowned.

The man nodded. "You'll marry me, but only for appearances."

Freya suddenly perked up. "Wait, am I being recruited by some talent agency? Is this like that show, We Got Married?"

"...what?"

"So I'm going to be a celebrity?"

Damn.

Freya had never dreamed of becoming a celebrity, but it didn't sound like a bad option. She loved money. And celebrities made a lot of it.

She had no idea what kind of dream she'd had last night that led to a stranger showing up at the karaoke place where she worked as a hostess. They even rented a private room, colorful lights still flickering above them, just to offer her money to become a celebrity.

Could this finally be the end of her miserable life?

She had spent years living off other people's mercy. At twenty, she lost her parents and was forced to grow up overnight. For the next four years, she worked nonstop, jumping from one job to another, yet still remained poor.

All because she had to pay off the debts her father left behind. Debts owed to ruthless loan sharks.

Even after four years, she still hadn't paid them off.

If she accepted this offer, she could become rich. She could finally be free!

"I will! I'll take it!"

She reached for the money, but the man suddenly pulled it away.

"What are you talking about?" His voice dropped, his patience gone.

Freya didn't seem to notice. She laughed awkwardly and cleared her throat. "Ah, right, I was too hasty. So... where's the camera? Are we already filming?"

The man's expression darkened.

Did someone seriously introduce him to an idiot?

"You seem to misunderstand. I-"

She cut him off, suddenly straightening up and putting on an elegant demeanor. "I understand now. Sorry about that. Let's cut that part. I'll start acting properly."

"...?" 'What exactly did you understand? What acting?'

"So what's your name again? Are you going to be my partner on the show?"

"...!!!"

"No, no! You're a man and I'm a woman. If we live together, things might get out of control. What if I get pregnant? Will there be compensation? Will I get paid more if that happens?" she rambled freely.

"You-"

He stopped mid-sentence.

Freya suddenly slipped onto the sofa beside him, closing the distance completely, her hand rising to brush his chin.

A chill ran down his spine.

His expression soured when he caught a strong scent. But to him, it wasn't sweet.

Meanwhile, she leaned fully into her 'acting,' slipping into the sensual rhythm she knew well. This was how she made money, being a high-end club hostess, moving from one client to another, earning more through charm and performance.

She studied his reaction, trying to match his preferences.

Her fingers trailed from his chin to his cheek, rough with faint stubble. Staying in character, she tilted his face toward hers, slowly leaning in.

Perfect.

Except-

Instead of being captivated, his face turned green.

He shoved her away.

Then he immediately covered his mouth and vomited onto the floor.

Freya froze.

W-What?

She hadn't even done anything extreme, and he... threw up?

Before she could react, he spoke first, eyes red, voice low and cold. "What did you do? You smell like rotten eggs. I could die."

"...Rotten eggs?" She frowned. "What-"

But before she could finish, he stormed out and taking the money with him.

".........."

Freya sat there, speechless.

What the hell just happened?

She stayed silent for a moment, then crossed her arms and dropped onto the sofa.

"Fvck. Did I just get scammed?" she muttered. "Well, it's not like this is the first time some guy's faked being rich just to hit on me anyway."

She shrugged.

A soft cough came from nearby.

She turned and realized the other man was still there. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. Then he stepped forward and handed her a business card.

"Miss Laurent, this is my boss's card. He's a businessman, not part of any talent agency or management."

Freya took it and read the name.

Nathaniel Obgrin.

There was a company name listed, but she had never heard of it-then again, she never cared about such things.

"Tch. So I really got scammed?"

"We didn't deceive you," the man said calmly. "You were the one who let your imagination run wild."

Freya fell silent. That stung.

"So?" she asked.

"I'm Keith Morgan, Mr. Obgrin's personal assistant. I've already called someone to clean this mess up. Could we continue this conversation outside? The offer still stands."

The smell of vomit lingered in the VIP room. Freya wrinkled her nose, her stomach turning.

So much for becoming a famous celebrity.

Great.

"No. Forget it. Find someone else. I don't want to deal with that man."

Forget the money. If she had to deal with someone who thought she smelled like rotten eggs, she'd probably end up hitting him every day.

She discreetly sniffed her own armpit.

Nothing.

She smelled perfectly fine.

That bastard.

"I apologize on behalf of Mr. Obgrin," Keith said. "He is actually... allergic to women."

Freya turned sharply. "He's... what?"

"Allergic to women," he replied flatly. "He reacts by vomiting when he's near them or smells them."

"I don't smell," she snapped. "And does that even make sense? Allergic to women? Is he allergic to his own mother too?"

She let out a snort.

"No. He's allergic to all women except his mother. She doesn't know about it, and she keeps pressuring him to get married."

Now she finally understood the core of the problem.

Keith added that the karaoke club owner had recommended her, apparently because she was an orphan, making her a 'suitable candidate'.

Yeah. Thanks a lot.

Freya clenched her teeth.

"How old is he, by the way?"

"...Thirty-five."

She almost choked on her own saliva.

That was an eleven-year gap.

Was there really no one else willing?

"Tell me, is he still a virgin?" she asked curiously.

Keith coughed awkwardly. "So... Miss Laurent, will you accept the offer? I'm in a bit of a hurry."

"Answer me first."

"Miss-"

"Come on, just tell me!"

Freya raised an eyebrow, staring straight at him. Keith didn't answer, he simply covered his mouth and coughed again.

That was answer enough.

She burst into laughter.

"Oh my God. I didn't think there was actually a man who lived like a monk until thirty-five."

She found it strangely amusing. That Obgrin guy suddenly seemed... a little cute.

Well, aside from the cold attitude. And the impatience.

"That's because of his condition," Keith clarified.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine. Tell him not to be embarrassed about being innocent. No one's going to hurt his pride."

"..."

The cleaning staff arrived, and the two of them walked out.

"So, will you accept the offer?" Keith asked again.

"No," Freya answered. "After all, I smell like rotten eggs, right?"

She was going to remember that insult for the rest of her life.

She turned to leave, but his next words stopped her.

"My boss will pay off all your debts."

Her ears practically twitched.

'How does he know about my debts? Was he stalking me?'

She turned back, smiling sweetly. "No, thank you."

She turned again.

"You'll be paid double your current salary at the club."

Freya clenched her teeth.

No. No. She must not be swayed by that offer.

No.

"Triple," Keith added.

Wtf.

Triple the salary and she wouldn't have to deal with those disgusting men anymore?

Her hand tightened into a fist. Her heart pounded.

Keith noticed the hesitation. "My boss also knows you've been followed by a perverted stalker lately. He can take care of that for you."

Damn.

He knew that much?

"You don't have a home. My boss will buy you a luxury house in the city center."

Argh.

Was this even real?

Freya had seen too many men pretend to be rich just to enjoy being accompanied at karaoke. Most of them were rotten inside.

No. She had dealt with enough bad luck already. No matter how tempting it sounded... what if this was just another lie?

"Miss, if you're not interested-"

Freya turned back, finally making up her mind.

"I... will. I'll take it. Please take care of me."

They walked toward the lobby together. Not far away, Nathaniel's car was parked. He stood there, half-hidden in the shadows, looking in their direction.

For a brief moment, Freya thought-

Well... not bad.

At the very least, it might be an interesting experience.

Yeah.

She needed the money anyway.

...to be continued...

Freya folded her clothes absentmindedly.

She stared at the shirt on her lap, unfolded it, then folded it again like an idiot. Her thoughts drifted everywhere.

In the end, she did get the envelope.

There was a lot of money inside. Enough to cover her living expenses for an entire year.

Keith had said it was just an advance. She would receive the rest once she moved into that Obgrin guy's house.

Yeah.

Moving into that virgin man's house.

Freya suddenly smirked, which looked like a bitter snort.

"Are you mad at me?" Judith asked carefully.

Judith Foster-the owner of the karaoke club where Freya worked-was the one who had introduced her as a 'suitable candidate' to that rich client last night.

She was also the one who had taken Freya in four years ago, back when Freya had nothing.

They met by chance.

At the time, Freya had been delivering milk to make ends meet. One afternoon, she got into trouble with a group of thugs near Judith's house. Judith happened to witness it and scared them off by blasting a fake police siren from her car.

After that, she brought Freya home.

That was when she learned everything, about Freya losing her parents, the debts left behind, and the exhausting cycle of jobs she had taken just to survive.

Judith couldn't turn her away.

Even the small apartment Freya lived in now had been given by her.

At forty-seven, Judith had become like a mother to Freya, and she treated Freya as her own daughter.

"I'm sorry for making this decision without talking to you first. I thought you really needed the money to pay off those loan sharks."

Freya stayed silent.

"It's just a fake marriage. Once you get the money, you can leave him."

Still no response.

Judith let out a sigh. "If you're mad, don't bottle it up. You can yell at me. Just don't stay quiet like this."

Freya, "..."

"That client isn't a bad person," Judith added. "One of our regulars knows him. He's in the hotel business. Quite well-off."

She must be upset, Judith thought.

"How about this, I'll tell them you can't take the job. I can send someone else in your place."

"..."

Guilt crept in as she reached out and gently touched Freya's shoulder.

Freya startled.

"Hm? Were you saying something?"

"You're... not mad at me?" Judith frowned.

Freya quickly folded her clothes and tossed them into her suitcase one by one. "Mad? Why would I be mad at you? What were you saying earlier? Sorry, I was spacing out."

Judith chuckled. "Forget it."

"Come on, what is it? I'm curious. I'm not mad, really. About that Obgrin guy, right? Well... I think he's kinda cute."

"Cute?"

Freya giggled. "He's a virgin."

"Virgin? In this day and age? He doesn't look like he's in his early twenties."

Freya zipped up her suitcase after putting in the last piece of clothing. She deliberately avoided mentioning his condition and simply said, "He's thirty-five. Quite mature."

"Wow. I'm surprised."

"You don't look surprised to me."

They both laughed.

"When are you leaving?" Judith asked.

"His assistant will pick me up at ten."

"You really don't mind this job, right? If you can't-"

"I'm fine. Don't worry." Freya cut her off, then remembering something. "Judith, can I ask you for a favor? Can you not sell this place while I'm gone? I'll come back. What if I pay rent while I'm-"

"You silly girl, what are you talking about?" This time, Judith cut her off. "I gave this apartment to you."

Freya's eyes grew watery as she hugged her.

"Thank you, thank you so much. You're so kind, Judith."

Judith let out a soft chuckle.

"Take care of yourself. And if anything happens. If he hurts you or tries to scam you, come back here, okay?" her hand gently stroking Freya's long hair.

Freya pulled away, pouting. "Why are you saying that like a mother sending her daughter off to get married?"

"You are getting married."

"It's fake," Freya corrected, fixing the remaining hangers and letting out a sigh. "Besides, who said I'm going to stay there? I'll come back here to work at night."

"Huh?"

"What do you mean 'huh'? Don't try to stop me, okay? Who knows, they might be scammers. I'm not risking my job."

"You're serious?"

"Completely."

Freya had thought, when Keith explained his boss's condition, she'd be asked to help cure the man. Turns out, she was only being hired as a 'wife' so he could stop being dragged into blind dates.

That almost made her laugh.

At ten, Keith showed up in a sleek black car, right on time. He stepped out and took her suitcase from her without a word.

"Is this everything?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Freya glanced at him now and then, and her eyes caught the ring on his ring finger. A flicker of disappointment passed through her.

Honestly, she preferred Keith's type. Educated, calm, gentle. Mature and good-looking.

Not that that Obgrin guy wasn't handsome... he just felt colder and distant.

"So when will I meet his mother?" Freya asked during the drive.

Keith kept his eyes on the road. "There was supposed to be a family dinner arranged by my boss. But he fell sick after... your 'attack,' so it was canceled."

Freya stiffened. 'Attack, huh?'

"Is his condition really that bad?"

Keith's eyes flickered slightly. He didn't answer right away, turning the wheel at a bend before finally saying, "Quite serious."

"...."

The rest of the ride passed in silence.

The car eventually entered an upscale residential area and stopped in front of a house with a wide yard. Compared to the other houses she had seen along the way, this one was more minimalistic. A two-story building, open space, low fence.

They got out together. As Keith pulled her suitcase from the trunk, he said, "Don't take anything Nathan says to heart. He doesn't mean harm."

Freya frowned. Why was Keith suddenly calling his boss by a casual name?

Keith seemed to notice.

"I'm not actually his assistant. And this house... is mine."

Freya blinked. "So I was tricked?"

"I'm sorry. But yes, we did trick you."

"..." Wtf?

He spoke quickly after that. "Nathan has a rare genetic condition, and it's been difficult for him to find a partner. His mother really has been pushing him into blind dates. He's been trying to find someone willing to cooperate with him for a long time, but it hasn't been easy. Most women he met were... too greedy. They broke the terms of the contract."

Freya was speechless.

"He's a bit embarrassed to involve others in finding someone, it would mean people knowing about his condition. So... yeah. He asked me to improvise a little."

Freya's heart skipped. "T-Then... my debts? What about my debts?"

Keith paused, a little surprised that was her first concern. Somehow, it almost made him want to laugh.

"It will still be paid off."

Freya exhaled, her shoulders finally loosening.

That was enough.

As long as her debt was gone, everything else felt manageable.

Keith caught that expression and smiled faintly. "Don't worry. This is a work contract. You'll still be paid monthly."

"Triple my salary still applies?" Freya asked carefully.

Keith let out a soft, amused chuckle and nodded.

She felt a little embarrassed.

"If you don't mind me asking... what's your relationship with him?"

Keith went quiet for a moment before answering, "Nathan is my cousin. His mother is my aunt."

Freya hummed softly.

So... he had family who cared.

For a moment, something tight curled in her chest. She had no one in this world, except Judith.

No real friends. No relatives. Just coworkers and clients from the karaoke club. Her life had always been about earning, surviving, moving on.

It must be nice having someone like that.

They walked up to the door. He opened it without knocking, stepped inside, and set her suitcase down.

Keith reached for a document on the table and turned back to her.

"I'll explain the terms of your contract," he said. "After that, you can sign once we've agreed on everything."

He placed the papers in front of her.

Freya stared at them for a moment. Before she could even open the file, the sound of footsteps came from upstairs.

Nathaniel Obgrin walked down in navy satin pajamas, his hair sticking up slightly from sleep. Freya wasn't prepared for the sight and got caught staring. He only gave her a brief glance, as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture, before heading straight to the kitchen and disappearing from view.

Wow.

He looked like a walking corpse.

Where was the cold, majestic man she had met last night?

"Nathan will join you shortly," Keith said. "You can start reading the contract. Ask me if there's anything you don't understand. I'll leave you for a moment."

With that, he stepped away.

Left alone, Freya tried to focus on the contract. She barely got through a single word before the image of Nathaniel in those pajamas-half-awake, completely unbothered-started replaying in her mind.

'Damn, that blank face... why's it so cute? And seriously, those steel-gray eyes are kinda hypnotic.'

Aww.

If anyone heard that thought, they'd probably be horrified!

"Since when do I like men like that? Wasn't his cousin better?" she muttered.

A sudden scraping sound snapped her out of it.

She looked up.

Nathaniel was already sitting at another table a little ways from her, of course. His face still a bit damp, like he'd just washed it, and he had a can of beer in his hand.

Freya blinked.

...Since when was he there?

He didn't say anything. He leaned back slightly, one arm resting on the chair, the other lifting the can to his lips. He took a slow sip, eyes half-lidded, like he hadn't fully woken up yet.

"So," she started, "you always drink this early?"

Nathaniel lowered the can, finally looking at her properly. His gaze was steady, unreadable.

"It's water."

"...That's not water."

"It is," he replied flatly, before taking another sip.

She narrowed her eyes. "You're weird."

"And you smell," he said just as calmly.

Freya's smile froze. "You're really going to keep saying that?"

Nathaniel didn't answer. His gaze flicked to the contract instead.

"Read it. If you don't like the terms, leave."

Straightforward. Cold.

Freya clicked her tongue softly but picked up the papers again. This time, she forced herself to focus.

A few lines in, her brows began to knit together.

"Live-in arrangement... public appearances as a married couple... no physical contact beyond agreed limits..." she read aloud. "Huh. You're really serious about this."

"You don't like it, just go. The door's right there."

Shit! What with this man!

"No, I'm fine with it. Honestly, I've been waiting for this day!" Freya grinned. "I mean, who wouldn't want to marry a rich, handsome guy?"

This man had no idea that the more Freya was challenged, the more excited she became. In the end, he'd be the one struggling to keep up with her.

Without bothering to read the rest, she flipped straight to the last page and signed her name.

Nathaniel frowned slightly, his grip tightening around the can until it crumpled with a soft crack.

Freya finished signing and stood up. Nathaniel shifted a little as she walked closer, but she only placed the contract on the table in front of him.

Then she leaned in.

Nathaniel stumbled back, knocking his chair over as he stood up, putting even more distance between them.

Freya laughed.

"Your turn. My future husband."

She smiled, then turned on her heel, dragging her suitcase behind her with a satisfied little sway in her step.

... to be continued ...

Freya crossed paths with Keith while dragging her suitcase. His eyes flicked to the luggage, then to the copy of the contract in her hand.

"Oh, you've finished reading it?"

Freya handed him the paper. "I've signed it."

"Keep this copy." Keith pushed it back toward her. "If you've signed, I assume you agree with everything."

She didn't answer. Truthfully, she hadn't read all of it.

"Yeah."

"Good. It's hard to find a beautiful woman who can cook these days."

Freya froze. "What?"

She hurriedly flipped the pages open and found a line listing her duties. "I have to take care of the house and his daily needs?"

"Well, the most important thing is that you can cook. The rest can be negotiated," Keith said. "It's to convince my aunt that Nathan didn't just pick some random woman off the street."

His mother really knows him well, huh?

"So, can you cook?"

Freya had been living alone since her parents passed away. She'd been forced to grow up overnight. To save money, she usually cooked for herself or survived on bread and instant noodles.

"I can cook a few things," she said honestly.

"That's good."

The rest of the contract terms were reasonable enough. She didn't mind them. In fact, it all felt too easy for such a high salary. And they didn't even have to truly get married, which made her feel at ease.

High pay, easy work. This felt like the freedom she had been chasing.

Taking care of a giant baby who was allergic to women? Not a big deal.

In fact, she felt lucky she didn't have to get close to that man at all.

Satisfied, she closed the document.

"You really agree to everything, right?" He asked.

"Yeah. Being a housemaid isn't hard. I've worked as a café waitress, a milk delivery girl, a newspaper seller, and I've even mowed lawns at empty houses. I can do anything."

Keith was speechless for a moment, then smiled. "You're impressive."

Freya wasn't used to praise and felt a little overwhelmed. "Ah... it's nothing."

"Alright. Your room is on the first floor. The second floor is Nathan's. You'd better not go upstairs and disturb him."

"Okay." Freya smiled sweetly.

Keith glanced at her, hesitating. "You really must not disturb or tempt him. He could get sick."

He sounded more like a worried parent than Nathaniel's cousin.

"Don't worry. I won't tease him."

Besides, who would want to deal with someone who insulted your smell and even gagged because of it?

Annoying.

Before leaving, Keith handed her a check with the amount already filled in.

Not long after, she found herself alone in the house-well, almost. There was still that 'sick giant' on the second floor.

She rolled around on the bed in a daze. The room was spacious, with a private bathroom, nothing like her tiny apartment.

The contrast was... glaring.

But was that man really sick?

He looked pale, sure. But he had casually drunk a can of beer earlier.

Ah.

Not her problem.

She picked up the contract again and reread it. Cleaning, cooking... it really did sound like she was just a housemaid. But the pay was ridiculously high.

She chuckled in satisfaction.

Then she flipped another page she had missed earlier and froze.

"What is this...?"

She read aloud, "Party B is not allowed to leave the house without Party A's permission. Violation will result in a 50% salary deduction."

"What the hell?"

She continued.

"If Party B is seen meeting another man unknown to Party A, the contract may be terminated at any time, and Party B will receive no payment."

What a leech.

The phrases "leave the house" and "meeting another man" were printed in bold italics.

As if those were the real rules.

Alongside things like: "Party B must not approach within five meters of Party A and Party B must not intentionally touch Party A."

Freya threw the paper aside and dropped onto the mattress.

"Whatever. As long as I don't get caught, it should be fine, right?" she muttered.

Her phone suddenly buzzed with a notification. A message from Astrid, one of the girls at the karaoke club. Her friend.

[Freya, wtf?? You just quit outta nowhere? Judith said you were gonna pay off your dad's debt. What, did you find some rich old guy or something? When's he dying???]

Freya could practically picture her expression. She noticed several missed calls from her.

[Relax, okay? Well, yeah, I met a rich guy and got swept away. I'll pay you back too.]

Astrid replied instantly.

[You fool! Who cares about the debt?! Don't go with strangers! You're getting scammed!]

Freya laughed but didn't reply.

Astrid Bennet had been one of the senior hostesses at the karaoke club when Freya first started. She was the one who taught Freya everything. They were fifteen years apart, yet Astrid was still stunning.

She had been married once, but her husband had passed away six years ago. After becoming a widow, she chose to work at the club and never remarried.

Maybe that was why they understood each other so well-both alone in the world in their own ways.

As she thought back on everything, she let out a quiet sigh without realizing it.

Astrid and Judith... they were the two people Freya trusted more than anyone else in this world.

One day, she would repay their kindness.

The room was so comfortable that her tired eyes gradually grew heavy.

But she hadn't been asleep for long when she suddenly jolted awake at the sound of something crashing outside.

Startled, she jumped to her feet and rushed out of the room, her mind still hazy. Instinctively thinking there was a thief in her tiny apartment.

By the time she fully came to her senses, instead of a thief, she found a tall, handsome man, bare-chested, staring down with a frown at a pot of water that had fallen onto the floor.

"What are you doing?" she asked, picking up the pot.

When she looked up, Nathaniel flinched and stared at her like she was a pest, backing into the corner of the kitchen.

His face was pale, his body weak... but he still looked ridiculously attractive.

Freya cleared her throat and looked away.

"Do you want something to eat?"

"If I do, can you cook?"

"Of course."

"But I don't want to eat your cooking," Nathaniel said flatly. "So forget it."

Freya frowned.

She stepped closer, nearly bumping into his chin because of their height difference, but he quickly moved back.

"Stay five meters away from me. You agreed to that in the contract," he said, raising a hand to stop her from getting any closer.

Freya scoffed. "I'm not even wearing perfume. What, are you allergic to this beautiful women too? Give me a break."

She still didn't understand his condition. If her scent made him vomit... would simply being this close do the same?

The moment she finished speaking, Nathaniel's eyes widened.

He clamped a hand over his mouth and then he threw up.

"..."

Wtf.

In the end, Freya had to clean it up.

"Seriously... is his condition really that bad?"

Then something clicked.

"Wait! I didn't touch him. I'm not wearing anything scented. So why did he throw up?"

She sniffed the air.

Nothing. Just the sour stench of bile.

After cleaning up the mess and mopping the floor until it was spotless, she wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her gaze drifted upstairs, to where Nathaniel's room was. Ever since that vomiting incident, he hadn't come out at all.

His door remained tightly shut.

She remembered how pale he looked.

So... he really was sick?

Then why had he seemed fine this morning, even drinking beer?

Tsk.

What a confusing man.

He must have come down earlier to do something.

Was he trying to cook instant noodles?

Yeah, right. A rich man eating instant noodles?

Since Nathaniel didn't come out again, Freya cooked for herself.

The kitchen was fully stocked with fresh and instant ingredients. She made an omelet. Halfway through eating, she paused.

She remembered his pale face.

"Should I cook for him? But with that personality, he'd probably throw it straight into the trash."

So she didn't.

Back in her room, she took out her phone and stared at Keith's contact for a moment before hesitantly calling him.

"Freya, is something wrong?" His firm voice carried a faint edge that made her uneasy.

"Um... you said that Obgrin-I mean, Nathaniel is sick, right? Isn't someone supposed to bring him food? There's no one here."

She heard faint rustling on the other end and assumed Keith was busy with work.

"You didn't cook for him?" Keith asked.

"He told me to forget it."

"Huh?"

Freya clicked her tongue. "He said even if I cooked, he wouldn't eat it."

"Oh." A soft chuckle slipped through.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Not that I care or anything, but I don't want to be accused of murder if he starves to death, okay? I just want to avoid trouble."

"I understand," Keith said. "If you can, make him some porridge. He didn't say that because he doesn't want it... he's just a little prideful and shy."

Shy?

That guy?

Were they even talking about the same person?

...to be continued...