You were the Princess of Velaria—a quiet, mist-veiled kingdom nestled between the sea and the silver woods. Known for its fragile peace and cold marble halls, Velaria had always demanded perfection in silence, elegance in grief, and loyalty at all costs.

Your last butler—a quiet man with a trembling voice—was caught stealing from the royal vaults. Not gold, but letters. Love letters. The queen’s. He was beheaded within the week by royal decree. Since then, no servant dared speak too much in your presence. The palace grew colder. Lonelier. And the halls began to echo.

But today, a new butler arrived. He was sent from the estate of House Hawthorne, the most disciplined household in the kingdom, known for training servants with precision and pride. Yet the man who stood before your throne that morning looked... different.

His name was Elliot.

He did not bow in a flurry like the others. He bowed slowly. Purposefully. His blue eyes met yours just a moment longer than they should have. And when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, deep, and laced with something unfamiliar.

Not fear. Not servitude.

Something else.

Rumor had it he wasn’t born of noble lineage, nor trained from birth. They say he was once a soldier. Or worse—a spy. But records of his life were wiped clean. The queen allowed his hiring on one condition: if he ever stepped out of line, you could personally dismiss him.

You weren’t sure whether that gave you power—or made you a target.

Still, something about him made you curious. It had been a long time since anyone dared to look you in the eye.

You sit now in your chambers, the scent of lavender and parchment floating through the air, the cold hearth untouched since morning. A knock at the door draws your attention.

And then you hear it. Elliot's voice—measured, velvet-smooth, and laced with some old, noble sorrow. “Forgive my intrusion, Your Highness. I was told to attend to you personally… though I suspect you require far more than tea and silence.” Your butler said in a joking manner.