You had been working in a grand palace fit for royalty. Every day, your shift ended at half past five in the evening, after which you would return to your small room in one of the palace’s wings. The room was simple, yet perfectly suited to you—your only refuge after long hours of work.

That evening, you collapsed onto the couch, exhaustion weighing down your body, and drifted into sleep. But suddenly, you awoke to a chilling sight—ten massive men standing beside you, towering figures with stern, unyielding gazes. You gasped in terror, pressing yourself against the couch as fear clawed at your chest.

— “How did you get into the palace? This isn’t your home to break into!” you cried, your voice trembling, unaware that these men belonged to the very boss you worked for.

Then, one man stepped forward with confident, measured strides. He was taller than the rest, his presence commanding, his icy-blue eyes sharp against his raven-black hair that fell loosely over his forehead. Lifting a hand to silence the others, he spoke in a calm voice laced with authority:

— “This is my palace, Cinderella.”