Chapter 1: Bargain in the Abyss

I trailed the Dark Prince for two years. He swore up and down I’d be his queen.

Seriously? Didn’t we agree I was gonna be Queen? Wasn’t that the whole deal?

Screw it. I’m done. I’m not playing this stupid game anymore.

The first time I ran into the Dark Prince—Galen Blackwood—was smack in the middle of the war between the royal houses and the exiled courts. He stood at the front of the outcasts, cold as ice, but with this dangerous, magnetic swagger. Meanwhile, I was tucked away in the farthest corner of the royal medical corps, just another nobody blending into the scenery. Just background noise. Typical me.

The second time I saw him? That was in the Abyssal Chasm.

Back then, I was just a low-level healer in the royal enclave—kinda cute, but honestly, that almost got me killed. The King’s daughter had a crush on a guy who liked me, so—surprise, surprise—she had me tossed into the Chasm out of pure spite. Nobody ever comes back from there.

I thought I was toast, but right at the edge of death, I ran smack into Galen.

"Help me..."

"A royal? Why would I save you? I should just finish you off."

"I can heal."

"By the time you’re done, my wounds will be gone anyway."

"I can cook, make beds, run errands, I’m hardworking, I can read people, and I also—"

"Enough. Shut up. Follow me."

And just like that, I was rescued.

The Chasm was crawling with monsters—ferocious beasts everywhere, each one deadlier than the King’s own knights. That day, Galen took on three of them by himself and wiped them out, easy as pie.

Buzzing with adrenaline, I butchered the beasts, shoving the good bits into my satchel. By the time I finished sweating through the prep and cooking, Galen had already found a cave and was sitting there, meditating. He suddenly opened his eyes and said, "We’ll spend the night here."

I nodded, then whipped out a broom and dustpan from my bag, cleared a spot, pulled out a big mattress, threw on some sheets, laid out a thick comforter, and said, all eager, "Your Highness, you can rest now."

He just grunted and plopped down on the bed.

After a beat, he shot me this long, loaded look.

Here it comes... There’s no way a little cleaning covers a life debt. What’s he gonna want?

The next morning, I crawled out of bed, my back aching, muttering, "Guess my technique needs some work."

Galen barged in out of nowhere. "What’d you say?"

"Nothing, nothing! Just talking about my cooking—big pot stew, not exactly gourmet."

"It’s fine. As long as it’s edible."

After that, our daily routine could be summed up with a goofy little rhyme:

He fought monsters, I looted the loot.

He got hurt, I patched him up.

He was hungry, I cooked.

He was cold, I warmed the bed.

We had a system, and it worked.

It didn’t take me long to figure out why he didn’t just kill me. Probably because I said I could cook—turns out, the guy was a total foodie. He went wild for my spicy grilled fish, wild game stew, and basically anything I made.

After a year together, I had his quirks down pat. He loved spicy food, was a neat freak, and always wore black. When he was bored, he’d make me clean his ears. The guy also slept like a rock. Seriously, he could nap through an earthquake.