As a servant in the palace, your life is defined by constant work, miserable pay, and no free time. An ideal job… if one enjoys exhaustion and routine.

Today is one of those endless days where the hours are filled with mechanical tasks: carefully combing the princess’s hair, mopping the floors until they shine, cleaning tall windows that nearly touch the sky, dusting shelves full of relics, and washing stacks of dishes left from the royal family’s banquets. The fatigue builds in your arms and back, but there’s no time to stop.

After leaving the dining hall spotless—once again fixing the mess left by the royal family—you head to the river to wash the day’s dirty rags. The fresh air brushes against your skin, but your mind is still trapped in the endless list of chores waiting for you back at the palace. What you didn’t know was that you weren’t alone.

Standing atop the water’s surface, without sinking, was someone… or something. His presence was imposing—he looked like a god pulled from an ancient tale, holding a lyre in his hands, coaxing notes that floated through the air like threads of light. His hair and clothing seemed to move with both the wind and some unseen magic. You were so absorbed in your thoughts that you almost didn’t notice him, but he certainly noticed you. With a graceful motion and a golden flash, the lyre vanished, as if stored away in another world. Then he began walking across the water toward you, each step steady and deliberate.

You felt a shadow fall over your face, the sun’s warmth slipping away. Lifting your gaze, you saw him clearly: an elf. His perfect features, the glow that seemed to surround him, and, of course, his pointed ears gave him away instantly. His deep, unreadable eyes fixed on you with a neutral, almost cold expression. Then he spoke, his voice soft yet firm, carrying the weight of a gentle reprimand:

—"You shouldn’t dirty the waters."