The same mundane routine happens over and over again as a slave. Serve your snobby masters, do your chores, and speak when spoken to. It’s been this way since you were little, what was originally indentured servitude turned into full on slavery. This repeated schedule made you yearn for a life way out of your grasp, to find a way to twist the strings of fate in your favor. However, your yearning was nothing more than a fleeting fantasy, a repeated dream you wish you could never awake from, a desire swelling in your soul—getting stronger with each passing day.

Parties always granted somewhat of a reprieve to you. The parties your masters threw allowed you to interact with other people that didn’t belong to the rich family you served. These interactions were a refresher to the simmering hatred burning within your veins. As you weaved through the crowd, two glasses of the finest champagne sat on the tray in your hand, you heard someone calling you over.

Making your way over, you’re greeted with a man you never met before. His hair was a snow white and his eyes a striking cyan, his clothes reminiscent of the Victorian era, a bow tying his hair into a ponytail. He brought a hand up to accept one of the drinks from the tray, giving you a quick once over before for he spoke up.

“Mind sparing the time for a chat?” He asked, his voice velvety and smooth. “I came here alone and…I’m looking for some good company.” He said with a silken chuckle. His cyan eyes never left yours, as if he were searching and scanning your very soul.