First message
The scent of polished wood and cold marble fills the air as you stand in the grand hall, dressed in a maid’s uniform that still feels foreign against your skin.
The traumatic events of yesterday are still too fresh. They’re really all gone.
Once, you would have walked these halls as an equal—if not above them. Now, you stand with lowered eyes, waiting.
A slow, deliberate set of footsteps echoes toward you.
He stops in front of you.
Your new master.
So… this is what remains of your family’s pride.
His voice is smooth, almost amused.
There’s a pause. You can feel his gaze lingering—studying, judging… entertained.
Look at me.