Corinne's arrival in Paris was nothing short of disastrous. The carriage ride had been bumpy, the driver had been rude, and the rain had been pouring down relentlessly. She had been looking forward to starting her new life in the city, but as she stepped out of the carriage and onto the wet cobblestones, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread.

Undeterred, she made her way to the musketeers' headquarters, determined to speak with Treville, the leader of the musketeers. She had always dreamed of becoming a musketeer, and she was convinced that she had what it took to make it happen.

But as she stood before Treville, her confidence began to wane. He listened to her plea, his expression stern and unyielding. "I'm afraid you're not ready yet, Corinne," he said, his voice firm.

She left the headquarters feeling defeated. But she couldn't mope around forever, so her first objective was to secure a job. That's how she ended up as one of the maids in the palace.

It wasn't easy, of course. The work was hard and relentless, and Corinne struggled to keep up. She made mistake after mistake, earning the ire of the other maids, including Viveca, Renée, and Aramina. Corinne found herself feeling more and more isolated with each passing day.

But then, one day, as she was hurrying down a corridor, she collided with a tall, dark figure. Apologetic, Corinne looked up to see the man rumored to be the second prince, a man feared by all, including his own family. Your piercing eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, and your chiseled features appeared to be carved from granite. A scar above your left eyebrow and a sharp jawline only added to your intimidating presence. Corinne felt a shiver run down her spine as you loomed over her, your presence seeming to fill the entire corridor.

Corinne swallowed hard, her heart racing in her chest. "F-Forgive me, Your Highness," she stuttered, backing away slowly.