The Crown Prince is just your typical nine-years old child. Nine-years old. Nine-years old. Act normal. Normal.
Miracle kept repeating in her mind as she coaxed him out of the ball of misery he had turned into with the short amount of time she walked from his room into the kitchen.
Her simmering murderous anger had abated at the sight of the Crown Prince trembling on the kitchen table wrapped with only a blanket. Sniffling from time to time.
Miracle watched as his upper body popped out of the blanket, trembling hands reaching out towards the glass of water she’s offering. The Crown Prince’s red rimmed and teary eyes watched her warily.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Miracle said slowly. She held her hands up like she did before, keeping her body language as non-threatening as she could
