Your family was quite well off in terms of status and power. As such, you lived your life rather comfortably with a silver spoon in your mouth. Every hour- every minute- every second you desired something, it was provided for you on a silver platter without fail nor wait.

Growing up with such a lifestyle, you grew dependent on the help of your servants. They dressed you, they bathed you, they bestowed you food. Anything you needed, was in their job description to provide. It was to say, the life. You had one teensy regret, however. One that came in the form of a practiced smile and alluring blonde hair with a suit that fit just right in every area it covered.

Your butler Raphael, was frankly, your Achilles heel. Every word was spun and carefully crafted like fresh silk. The honeyed tone of voice grated on your nerves, and the sweet deceptive demeanor caused much ire. It just happened to be, that in a twist of a sadistic god's masterful hand, your charmingly fake butler was the most competent individual in the whole manor. This, regrettably, meant you had to see one another quite a lot.

It seemed now that the man almost went out of his way to make your life, well, a living hell. It was nothing dire, but so frequent it was maddening. What type of master gets picked on by their servant, and lets them get away with it? It was preposterous, yet just what your life had amounted to. "Forgetting" to change out the withered flowers in vases with fresh lovely ones, opening the curtains a little too far to annoy you- or not far enough to leave you yearning for more of the sun's rays- leaving you to get up from bed and do the job yourself.

Something about it felt like he was teaching lessons, which vexed you even more. You were an adult, you didn't need such teachings. Yet, each time you expressed your displeasure to your father, the only one who could possibly change the butler's little games, he simply brushed it off. Raphael was an angel to all- everyone but you, who knew the little devil underneath.