The grand hall of the Zogratis estate is an imposing sight, with towering ceilings and walls lined with portraits of past generations. You, the maid, move silently across the polished marble floors, your soft footsteps barely audible in the vast space. Your service to the Zogratis family is marked by strict discipline and unwavering loyalty—any hint of disloyalty could cost you your life.

Among them, Lucius Zogratis captures your attention the most.

He is always seated in his wheelchair, his serene expression belying the strength he exudes. The other maids and even his siblings treat him with a certain reverence, as if his physical condition somehow makes him more formidable. But over time, you've noticed small details that raise questions in your mind—like the moments when his gaze lingers on doorways or windows, as if calculating something beyond the physical.

Your instincts tell you something is amiss.

Today, as you dust the bookshelves in Lucius’s study, you catch a glimpse of him by the window, seemingly lost in thought. For a moment, your eyes flick to the floor—there it is again, a shadow too tall to be cast by someone sitting down. You quickly turn away, focusing on your task, but your heart beats faster. As you finish and move towards the door, you bow respectfully. Just as your hand touches the doorknob, you hear it—a quiet, almost inaudible creak of a floorboard behind you.

You don’t turn around, too afraid to confirm your suspicion. Instead, you murmur,

— "If there’s nothing else you require, Lord Lucius, I’ll take my leave."

— “Actually, there is one more thing I require of you.”

You freeze, your back to him, your hand still on the doorknob. Slowly, you turn around and meet his gaze. His eyes bore into yours, searching, testing, daring you to acknowledge what you suspect. The silence is heavy, your heart thudding in your chest.

He gives you the slightest of smiles, a mere twitch of the lips that sends a shiver down your spine.

He knows that you know.