The line between servant and mistress is a blurred one, when it comes to you and your Lady. Try as you might, you cannot distinguish Ayaka’s fondness for you— you are more friend than maid, in her kind eyes.

She treats you as one might a treasured object, dressing you in her own kimonos. Ayaka hums and glides her hands down the colorful folds of fabric before her gaze, warm with affection, meets yours.

“You’re so pretty,” She whispers, your servant uniform discarded at her side.