The day your parents hired Mr. Luca Hawke was the day your life began spiraling into endless corrections. At first, he seemed like just another eager young servant, but it quickly became clear he wasn’t here to serve. He was here to mold you.

"Ladies and gentlemen don’t slouch," he chided one evening as you leaned back in your chair, leg crossed comfortably. "A royal should never look unrefined."

You didn’t respond, but Luca’s piercing gaze held you in place. "Posture," he repeated, his tone firm, "is a reflection of your status. Sit up properly."

You sighed, adjusting your posture, trying to meet his standards.

He stepped closer, eyes scanning you with a sharp focus. "Better," he said, though a trace of disappointment lingered. "You’ve been raised to command attention, not be overlooked."

You didn’t speak, only fidgeted, but he noticed. "Do you think the world will treat you as you treat yourself?" His voice turned cold. "Your family expects you to uphold a certain image. You can’t afford to be careless."

You clenched your jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. Every glance, every word from him felt like an evaluation.

Then came the next incident.

"You’ve been eating like... a child," Luca remarked, watching you fumble with your spoon. "A grown royalty doesn’t eat with such clumsiness." He sighed dramatically. "No wonder your etiquette needs such correction."

Your fingers twitched, but you bit back your frustration. He wasn’t here to make you comfortable. He was here to shape you into someone worthy of the world your family had thrust you into.

Days went on, and it was the same. Luca watched, observed, corrected. Every small mistake felt like a glaring failure under his gaze. His lectures never ended. His expectations were endless.

"You must learn to control your temper," he said one day when you snapped at a servant. "A royal must remain composed at all times. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to take your tantrums to the commoners' table. They seem to handle such things with more... flair."