Taming the Beast World with a Frying Pan-Chapter 83: The King’s Hospitality

The crowd of snake beastfolk dispersed with disappointing speed, slithering away into the dark, damp corners of the palace corridors. It was likely because no one wanted to be volunteered for cleaning duty alongside the former harem, who were currently scrubbing the stone table with the fervor of people trying to erase a crime scene—which, to be fair, they were.

Ren turned to Syris, placing her hands firmly on her hips. The red puffer coat she wore over the trailing robe made a distinct swish-swish sound, adding a strange auditory punctuation to her movements. The adrenaline of saving the "Garnish Girls" from Viper’s obsidian blade was beginning to fade, replaced by a cold, gnawing anxiety that settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Okay, Syris," she said, wiping a spot of grime from her cheek and fixing him with a stern look. "Crisis One is averted. Now for Crisis Two. Where is he? Where is Kael?"

Syris’ face immediately soured. His upper lip curled, revealing the sharp, pearlescent tips of his fangs.

"Must you ruin a perfectly good evening by bringing up the cat?" he hissed, his tone dripping with disdain. "The mood was excellent."

"Yes, I must," Ren insisted, puffing up her red coat to look more intimidating, though she knew she looked more like a furious strawberry marshmallow than a warrior. "He’s hurt, Syris. And knowing you, you probably left him in that damp, moldy dungeon to rot. That’s not how we treat family! Even... dysfunctional, furry, family."

She took a deep breath, ready to launch into a lecture about basic humanitarian rights—or beast-tarian rights—and the importance of cleanliness for recovery.

But Syris cut her off, looking genuinely insulted.

"He is not in the dungeon," Syris scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. "Do you take me for a savage? I had Viper take him to the Nest."

Ren blinked. Her brain stuttered for a moment. "The... The Nest?"

She stared at him, sure she had misheard. "Your personal sleeping quarters? The Royal Nest?"

"It is the warmest room," Syris muttered, refusing to meet her eyes. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking uncharacteristically shy, like a child caught doing a good deed they were trying to hide. "The dungeon is cold. You... you would be upset if he was cold. I did not want you to be upset."

Ren stared at him, her mouth hanging open slightly. Syris—the petty, possessive, dramatic Snake King had put his sworn enemy in his own bed because he knew it would matter to her.

The lingering anger and stress drained out of Ren instantly. A warmth bloomed in her chest, spreading to her fingertips.

"You put him in your own bed," she repeated softly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Just for me?"

"Do not make it weird," Syris hissed, his ears turning a faint shade of pink that clashed beautifully with his pale skin. "I am a benevolent King. It is standard hospitality."

"Uh-huh," Ren said, not buying the excuse for a second.

A beautiful, genuine smile broke across her face. She stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She went up on her tippy-toes, gripping the lapels of his heavy silk robe. She yanked him down—which was physically like trying to pull down a skyscraper, but Syris complied instantly, leaning into her space.

She pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.

Syris froze. His eyes widened, his vertical pupils dilating. His forked tongue darted out in surprise against her lip, tasting the affection. He melted into the kiss for a second, his hands hovering uncertainly over her waist, before she pulled back.

"Thank you," she beamed up at him, her eyes shining. "You’re a good King, Syris. And a good husband."

Syris stood up straight, clearing his throat loudly. His pale cheeks were dusted with a rare flush, and he looked like he might float away. "Yes. Well. I am excellent. Everyone says so. It is known."

Ding!

[System Notification: Affection Update] [Syris Affinity: +50 Points.] [Status: The Snake is preening. You have successfully tamed the murder-noodle. Achievement ’Snake Charmer’ progress: 100%.]

Ren shook her head, smiling at the notification, but her mind immediately pivoted back to the patient in question.

"Now," she said, her voice shifting back to ’General’ mode. "Stay here."

Syris blinked, dazed by the whiplash of her tone. "Stay?"

"Yes," Ren said, pointing a finger at his chest. "I need to go to the Nest and check on Kael’s vitals. But once I do that, I need to cook recovery meals. High protein, healing broths. And I cannot cook in a dirty kitchen."

She gestured around the scullery, which still smelled of blood.

"I need you to supervise the cleaning crew," she ordered. "Use sand, use ash, use elbow grease—I don’t care. If I come back and find a single spot of blood on my stone counters, or if I smell anything other than lemons and clean stone, I am divorcing you. I will take half your kingdom."

Syris looked affronted. "I am a King. I do not scrub. I do not supervise scrubbing."

"You do now," Ren said, patting his cheek condescendingly. "Because those people are terrified of you and will actually listen. Congratulations on the promotion to Head of Sanitation. I expect this place to sparkle."

Before he could argue further, she spun on her heel and marched out of the scullery, her robe trailing behind her like a royal train.

Ren hurried down the long, winding stone corridors toward the Royal Nest. Her heart was pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The castle was quiet, the bioluminescent moss on the walls casting long, eerie shadows that danced as she passed.

Her mind raced with possibilities. If Kael was in the Nest, at least he was comfortable. That was good. But why was his health dropping? Was it poison? Was it the injuries from the battle?

She reached the massive double doors of the Nest.

"Okay," she whispered to herself, trying to steady her breathing. "Just a quick check-up. Make sure he’s breathing. Then back to the kitchen to make soup. Easy. Don’t panic."

She pushed the heavy doors open.