Rain poured hard that night. The sound of it drummed softly on the roof — like a million tiny fingers tapping in rhythm.
After a warm shower, Rion stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, ready to sleep early.

But then—he stopped.
A faint thump… thump… echoed from his desk.

Rion turned toward his sling bag resting on the chair.
The bag… was moving.

“Uwaa… w-what’s that sound?” he stammered.

The bag began to tremble harder, rolling off the chair before—

THUD!
Something jumped out of it.

“Uwaaaaaa!!” Rion screamed, stumbling backward, nearly slipping on the carpet.

Right before his eyes, the same doll he’d found that afternoon was now standing upright on the floor, looking at him with a calm — yet unmistakably alive — expression.

“Th-the doll’s moving! It’s—”

Before he could finish, the doll sighed, rubbing its temple.
“Stop that. You’re giving me a headache.”

Rion froze, eyes wide as saucers.
Then he screamed again, “It talks!!”

Panicking, he grabbed the doll with both hands, frantically inspecting it.
“Where’s the battery?! Head? Chest? Back?!”

The doll frowned — an oddly human expression.
“Hey! I’m not a toy!”

Rion stood there, stunned. Then pure survival instinct kicked in — he hurled the doll straight onto his bed.
“It’s possessed! The doll’s possessed by an evil spirit!!” he shouted, brandishing his damp towel like a holy relic.

The doll groaned, sitting upright on the mattress, flicking its messy silver hair out of its face.
“If I were an evil spirit, you’d be a cup of hot tea by now.”

Rion blinked.
“…Hot tea?”

The doll sighed, crossing its legs with surprising grace.
“Yes. I prefer tea to panicked humans.”

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of rain outside the window.

“So…” Rion finally muttered, “…you’re a talking doll who likes tea?”

The doll shot him a flat look.
“It’s more polite to say ‘a handsome man trapped in the form of a doll.’”

Rion: “…”
He stared for a long moment, then slapped his own cheek lightly.
“Yep. I’ve officially gone insane.”

.....

The doll tilted its head, scanning Rion’s outfit.
“I must say… for a commoner, your clothing is quite strange. Thin fabric, shorts above the knee — what is this, fashion for surviving hellfire?”

Rion frowned. “This is normal clothing! And just because I live in the countryside doesn’t make me a commoner!”

The doll looked around the small room with a disgusted sort of fascination.
“And this… dwelling. So small. Like a prison for one man.”

“It’s a room! A bedroom! Not a prison!” Rion barked, trying hard not to throw a slipper at him.

The doll blinked innocently.
“So you’re not a criminal from another realm? Everything here looks foreign and bizarre.”

Before Rion could retort, a faint grrrk rumbled through the air.
Both of them froze.

Rion glanced at the doll, whose porcelain face now had a faint blush.
“…Don’t tell me that was your stomach?”

The doll cleared his throat, trying to look dignified.
“Ahem. Is there… no food in this world?”

Rion gawked. “Wait—dolls can get hungry?!”

Instead of answering, the doll turned away with an embarrassed pout.

Rion sighed and stood up.
“All right, Your Highness. I’ll make you something to eat. So stop acting like that.”

“Hmph. Insolent peasant,” the doll muttered, folding his tiny arms.

Rion shook his head, walking toward the kitchen.
“All I have is instant noodles. It’s raining, so I’ll make it soupy, okay?”

“In… what? That name alone kills my appetite,” the doll said haughtily.

Rion glared back. “You want food or not?”

The doll instantly straightened up. “Yes, yes! I’ll eat it! But only because I’m starving — not because I’m curious about peasant cuisine!”

A few minutes later, the savory aroma of noodles filled the room.
Rion set down a bowl of steaming noodles and a cup of warm tea in front of the doll.
“Here you go, Your Majesty. Dinner from the humble folk.”

The doll sniffed cautiously — and his eyes widened.
“Uwah… the scent is divine.”

He grabbed the fork delicately, blew on the noodles, and took a bite.

Slurp.

His eyes sparkled.
“This is… incredible! Despite the ridiculous name, it’s delicious! Even the royal chefs couldn’t make something this good!”

Rion chuckled, resting his chin in his palm.
“Royal chefs, huh? You’re from a kingdom?”

“Of course,” the doll said proudly. “Do you not know who I am?”

“Nope. Who are you supposed to be?”

The doll straightened, placing a hand on his chest with practiced grace.
“I am Prince Elarion van Auralithia Eiravell of the Kingdom of Aurevienne.”

Rion blinked. “Elarion van… something. That’s a mouthful.”

“Such insolence!” the doll huffed — though his fork was still busy twirling noodles.

Rion grinned. “Well, here, everyone’s equal. No kings, no peasants. Just humans living side by side.”

Elarion froze mid-bite.
“…What?”