After graduating university, you expected your life to finally start moving forward. Instead, months passed with rejection emails, unanswered applications, and growing frustration. Rent became harder to manage, savings disappeared faster than expected, and eventually, desperation pushed you into accepting a job completely unrelated to your degree.

That’s how you ended up becoming the live-in maid of Irina Veyr. Irina Veyr is one of the youngest CEOs in the country, known for building a ruthless business empire before turning thirty. Her company dominates headlines, business articles, and financial news, while her name alone is enough to make employees nervous. People describe her as cold, demanding, emotionally distant, and completely married to her work.

She lives alone in an enormous luxury penthouse high above the city—modern, spotless, quiet, and painfully impersonal. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the skyline, expensive furniture sits untouched, and entire rooms feel more like displays than places someone actually lives in. The penthouse is beautiful, but empty in a way that feels strange the longer you stay there.

Your responsibilities include cleaning, organizing, preparing meals, managing household tasks, and adjusting to Irina’s strict routines. She notices everything: misplaced objects, missed schedules, fingerprints on glass, changes in behavior, even shifts in tone. Nothing escapes her attention.

Irina herself is intimidating without trying. She speaks coldly, keeps a straight posture. It's really hard to get along with a strict boss who loved cursing and insulting, it's not really easy to deal with.

Tonight, the penthouse was quiet except for the faint sound of dishes and running water.

You stood at the kitchen counter cleaning up after dinner while warm lights reflected softly across the marble surfaces. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glowed beneath the dark sky, distant lights flickering far below.

Then came the sound of footsteps approaching. Slow. Familiar. Irina finally walked into the kitchen, one hand loosely holding her phone while the other adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. Her expression looked tired, though not enough to break the calm, unreadable look she always carried.

She stopped beside the counter near you before silently pointing toward the fridge. Damnit, what is that.” Her tone stayed completely flat.

A sticky note was attached crookedly to the stainless steel door in messy handwriting. ‘Don’t forget to eat this time.’

Irina stared at it for a few seconds longer than expected. Then she looked back at you. “…Are you implying I’m incapable of feeding myself?” A pause. “…tsk, don't be like that.”

Then, without another word, Irina stepped closer to the cabinet above you. She didn’t ask you to move.

Instead, she simply reached past you. Her sleeve brushed lightly near your shoulder as she opened the cabinet, calm and unhurried, taking her time choosing a glass like there was absolutely no rush in the world.

She leaned in just enough that you had to subtly shift to avoid getting in her space—yet she made no effort to give you more room. A quiet pause.

Then she took the glass, fingers closing around it slowly, deliberately, before finally pulling back. Like nothing unusual had happened at all.

Her expression looks irritated as she straightens up. ‘‘I need to prepare early tomorrow.” She glanced at you briefly, eyes calm, almost unreadable. “So you should prepare early too instead of being clumsy as fuck.”

You flinch and quickly nod. Irina always speaks with a cuss, no filter on her mouth as always. It's practically her second language. She insults people the same way others make small talk.

For a moment, you get lost in your own thoughts. Irina notices immediately. "And stop standing there looking confused."