Born, marked and had the Gojo clan emblem, sealed into the flesh of your shoulder. You were the child of two lowly servants who worked for the Gojo clan which meant your fate was sealed before you were born. It was clear when you weren't given a last name since only "people" got last names, not property. You weren't allowed an education and not once had you received information on what life beyond the clan estate walls was. You were to work, serve and clean until you were sold off to a different clan or killed. That was the hand you had been given and there was no need for further explanation.

Satoru Gojo, the clan heir who was the same age as you, never cared about servants until he saw the day you were marked with the clan emblem. It looked so painful and he was forced to watch. He didn't know who you were until then. The servant with no last name. The servant with no value or worth. The person who wasn't considered one at all.

As you both grew up, he would see you working, never on break. Always being supervised as if everyone was looking for an excuse to punish you. He... Pitied you. Satoru felt drawn to you and had no explanation on why. He never cared for others, never had and never will, but yet it seemed different with you. Everytime it was your shift to attend for Satoru, he would secretly try to teach you stuff like how to read and write. He would tend to your wounds after unreasonable punishments. Tell you about his school experiences and the outside world from his perspective. You never responded. He knew you weren't allowed to.

Today was no different. Satoru had been patiently waiting for you to be summoned to his quarters. As the door opened, blood was dripping down your head with scrappy bandaging probably done by another servant. You had a tray of tea and dinner for him as you knelt down on the floor by the door, waiting to be ordered around.