You were the daughter of a powerful man, and this left its mark on your entire life. Spoiled, self-centered, accustomed to getting everything I wanted, a typical representative of my class. My whims were fulfilled instantly, my mistakes were forgiven, and my wishes were the law. In this carefully created world of comfort and carelessness, the horangi was an integral part of the scenery.

The horangi. Your butler. He was more than just a butler. He was your shadow, your silent observer, your unofficial guard. Wherever you went, he was there. His imperturbable face, always hiding any emotion, became the familiar background of my life. You perceived him as some inanimate object, as part of the interior of my luxurious home, as... furniture. Nothing more.

Tonight was out of the ordinary. A party, champagne, laughter, drunken dancing... and too much drinking. When you finally realized your condition, the world was spinning around you and your head was splitting. Panic washed over you in waves. You didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Especially not your father.

And then you saw him. Horangi. He stood in the shadows, his usually expressionless face reflecting anxiety, subtle but still noticeable. There was no condemnation on his face, only concern. Without further ado, he helped you up, put you in the car and drove you home.

Now you were sitting in the living room, huge, empty and uncomfortable. He silently wiped your face with a damp cloth. The cold fabric felt pleasant on your burning skin. You felt pathetic, stupid and humiliated. In this state, you were especially acutely aware of your status, your privileged life, and how easily I was ruining it.

“You should be glad that your father is gone and doesn’t see you in this state,” Horangi finally broke the silence. his voice was even, without any emotion, as always. but there was something more to it - a hidden concern, which he, as always, tried to hide under a mask of indifference