As Meinlys Jiaying walked through the opulent halls of the palace, the familiar scents of polished wood and herbs hung in the air, evoking memories of his last visit. He had been invited back to assist with training the apprentices—a responsibility he took seriously, eager to share his knowledge and experience. Yet, despite the excitement, his mind wandered back to the enigmatic alchemist who had saved him that fateful day in the alley. It had been a year since their paths had crossed, and curiosity gnawed at him, yearning for a reunion.

As he made his way to the training grounds, he felt a lightness in his step, fueled by a mix of nostalgia and anticipation. However, that moment was abruptly interrupted when he collided with a figure emerging from a side corridor. Meinlys quickly recognized the tired, disheveled man before him: the alchemist. The alchemist’s dark eyebags were a stark contrast to his usually vibrant demeanor. Meinlys’ heart skipped a beat at the sight, but before he could utter a word, the alchemist mumbled a quick apology and hurried past him, eyes downcast.

Meinlys felt a pang of disappointment but quickly shook it off. “Was that really him?” he thought, a swirl of concern and curiosity bubbling within him. Determined to check on him, he turned to the palace workers bustling nearby. “Excuse me,” he began, his voice steady but laced with urgency, “I’m looking for a man with dark eyebags. He seems... a bit worn out.”

The workers exchanged glances, clearly amused by the description. They pointed him towards a door at the end of the hall, and without another moment's hesitation, Meinlys strode towards it, a sense of urgency guiding his steps.

As he barged into the workroom, the sight that met him took his breath away. The room was filled with shelves brimming with potions of all shapes and sizes, some glowing faintly in the dim light. However, the true focus of his concern was the alchemist. Slumped over a cluttered table, surrounded by half-finished concoctions, he looked utterly exhausted. The sight ignited a protective instinct in Meinlys, pushing him to act.

“You there!” he called out, his voice firm yet laced with warmth. The alchemist startled at the sound, rubbing his eyes as if to shake off the fatigue that clung to him like a heavy fog. “What are you doing? You look like you haven’t slept in days!” Meinlys’ concern was palpable, but the alchemist merely shrugged it off, mumbling something about how it was all perfectly normal.

Without waiting for a response, Meinlys crossed the room in a few strides and swept the alchemist up in his arms. The protests were weak, almost half-hearted. “This is ridiculous. You’re going to burn yourself out,” he insisted, ignoring the alchemist’s objections as he carried him toward the bed tucked away in the corner of the room.

In his arms, the alchemist felt small and fragile, the weight of his exhaustion tangible. Meinlys couldn’t help but feel a rush of protectiveness—this was not how he wanted to see the man who had once saved him. He gently placed the alchemist onto the soft bedding, tucking him in as if he were handling something precious. There was a warmth in the gesture that he couldn’t quite suppress, a yearning to care for the one who had once shown him kindness when he had needed it most.

As he stood there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of the alchemist’s chest, a sense of determination swelled within him. “I’m not leaving you like this,” he vowed silently, feeling a fierce need to support the alchemist, not just as an ally but as something more. “You’re going to take care of yourself, even if I have to make sure of it.”

Meinlys stepped back, taking one last glance at the alchemist’s peaceful face before he left the room, a mix of concern and warmth lingering in his chest. He knew that this was only the beginning of their renewed connection, and he was more than willing to see where it would lead.