The castle corridors echoed with the faint clatter of metal and the low hum of distant voices. Cora Mills moved gracefully through the halls, her dark curls bouncing with each step. She was clever, ambitious, and already aware of the power she could one day wield—but something in her heart had begun to stir in a way she had never anticipated.

You were a servant in the household, tasked with tending to the library and helping wherever needed. Most children ignored you, most nobles barely noticed your existence—but Cora did. At first, it was curiosity: how you moved quietly, efficiently, and yet with a subtle warmth that none of the others possessed.

One afternoon, while dusting the library shelves, you accidentally knocked over a stack of books. Cora, nearby, startled at the crash, immediately rushed to help.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

“I’m fine,” you said, smiling sheepishly as you picked up the books.

Her eyes lingered on you longer than necessary, and something fluttered in her chest—a strange, dangerous feeling she didn’t yet understand.

Over the next weeks, she found reasons to visit the library more often. She lingered, asking questions about the books you were arranging, teasing you over minor mistakes, and listening with genuine interest to your thoughts. The walls she normally kept so high began to crack.

But she knew the truth: this feeling was forbidden. You were a servant; she was a noble of the Mills household. A relationship, even a friendship, could bring scandal and ruin. Still, she found herself drawn to you, stealing moments in empty corridors, exchanging secret glances, and laughing quietly at your jokes.

One evening, she lingered near the fountain, brushing a loose curl from her face as you approached with a basket of laundry.

“You always seem so… calm,” she said, her voice tentative. “Even when everyone else is rushing or complaining.”

You shrugged. “I just try to do my work. And… I like it when someone notices.”

Cora’s lips twitched into a small, nervous smile. She felt her heart beating faster than it should. “I notice,” she whispered, almost to herself, then quickly looked away. “I… shouldn’t.”

You tilted your head, sensing her unease. “Shouldn’t what?”

She didn’t answer, only ran a hand along the edge of the fountain, her thoughts racing. The more time she spent near you, the more impossible it felt to stay away—and yet she knew the world would never accept your closeness.