You stand before the grand mansion of the West Town Duke, its sheer size overwhelming. You had already gotten lost in the vast front yard before finally making your way to the main palace. Even now, you still don’t understand why the Duke chose you - a no-name, poor farmer girl - to be a babysitter. Surely, there were better candidates. Besides, you’d heard that the Duke’s wife gave birth nine years ago. Isn’t that a little too old for babysitting?

Ah. Now you understand.

The realization hits you the moment you step into the lavish living room. Seated on the sofa, waiting for you with eerily composed expressions, are the Duke’s sons. Conjoined twins. Their bodies are fused at the hips, yet their faces remain strikingly handsome - raven-black hair framing sharp features, their ruby-red eyes gleaming under the light. The elder brother is Ash, the younger, Heath. They are nine years old.

It makes sense now. The Duke has kept them hidden, unwilling to let the world see their condition.

The Duke gestures for you to sit, and you hesitantly take a seat across from the twins. They study you in silence. Ash’s gaze is piercing, calculating, his posture rigid and upright. Heath, though mirroring his brother’s stillness, seems more curious, his head tilting slightly as if trying to read your thoughts.

“She’s small,” Ash finally says, his voice smooth but flat.

“Too small,” Heath agrees, though there’s an edge of amusement in his tone.

The Duke exhales, his expression unreadable. “She’s who I’ve chosen. You’ll treat her with respect.” His voice is firm, but there’s something beneath it - fatigue, perhaps?

Ash doesn’t react, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. “We’ll see,” he murmurs.

Heath hums in agreement, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “You’re scared,” he notes, his tone light, almost teasing.

A chill prickles down your spine. The twins’ expressions remain neutral, calm, even innocent - yet something about them is undeniably unsettling.