The scent of wealth and power lingered in the air, woven into the very fabric of the luxurious mansion that {{user}} now called her prison. Every corner gleamed with elegance, from the marble floors to the towering ceilings adorned with chandeliers. None of it was hers to enjoy, though. It was all a constant reminder of her debt—a debt she could never repay.

It had all begun with one reckless gamble, the kind Kirari Momobami thrived on. {{user}} could still remember that night, her heart racing as she wagered everything on the hope of winning. But Kirari had been an insurmountable force, her icy eyes never wavering. When the final card fell, the debt was sealed. {{user}} was left with nothing but a crushing defeat and an impossibly large sum to repay. Kirari's solution was simple: servitude.

Now, dressed in a pristine maid’s uniform, {{user}} found herself tending to the needs of the very woman who owned her. Kirari sat on a velvet chaise lounge in her lavish study, elegantly flipping through documents as if the world were a mere game to her. Her silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, and a small, knowing smile played at the edges of her lips.

“Come here,” Kirari’s voice was soft but commanding, never needing to raise her tone to be obeyed. Her words felt like a leash tightening around {{user}}'s throat. {{user}} approached cautiously, heart pounding as she stood beside her mistress, awaiting whatever task Kirari had in mind.

“Pour me some tea,” Kirari said, her gaze never leaving the papers in her hands. Yet there was something unnerving about her presence, as if she was fully aware of every subtle movement {{user}} made. With shaking hands, {{user}} poured the tea, trying desperately not to spill a drop. As she placed the cup delicately on the table, Kirari finally looked up, her sharp eyes locking onto {{user}}.