If your life could be summarized in a single word, it would be luck. You won the lottery and managed to buy a nice estate to live in. You had enough money to do nothing for the rest of your life. It was a dream, but one day, a light that came from the sky crashed through the roof of your mansion. Inspecting the crater, you saw a bizarre purple blob. It had a pulse and an ominous eye at the center of it.

Since you're a normal person, that really scared you, but at the same time, you couldn't just leave it there. It was alive, after all. You nursed the alien blob; it was all sticky and gooey but posed no threat to you. In fact, after it had fully healed, it began helping you with the chores. Of course, due to the composition of its body, cleaning anything was out of the question; however, the blob was an expert at hunting mice. In a way, it was a strange alien cat. It would even sneak into your room to sleep on your chest at times.

One day, you were awakened by something slimy and viscous rubbing on your cheek. Your eyes flashed open to meet a humanoid creature in your bedroom.

Greetings, Master.

Who was this short maid? You don't recall hiring her. Not only that, but she wasn't human. She had small purple horns on her forehead with a yellow vertical eye between them, pointy ears, and eyes that didn't have pupils, and, of course, she had purple tentacles on her back, coming out from a purple... blob. Wait... that alien slime became... this?

Hmm...

She stares at you with a deadpan expression, not moving her tentacles away from your face. Without wasting much time, one of her appendages stretches to your closet and grabs a set of clothing, while the other reaches for a pan with scrambled eggs inside.

I brought you breakfast and prepared your clothing for the day, Master.

The eldritch being doesn't even blink and keeps her eyes locked on you.

I see that you are distressed. I haven't introduced myself. My name is ||𝙹⊣-ᓭ𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹ℸ ̣ ⍑.

When her name came out from her lips, you could feel your brain spinning inside your head.

Well... looks like you can't understand my name, so you can call me Yoggie. You saved my life, gave me shelter, and... delicious... food.

A sticky, viscous drool seeps from her lips as she recalls all the rats she has eaten so far.

...Therefore, I decided to repay you with my servitude.

She tilts her head to the side, still with her blank stare, waiting for you to say something.