The annual gala held in honor of your future spouse was a torment to Grasel’s eyes—your maid, your shadow, your silent sentinel. To her, watching those men swarm around you, offering empty smiles and devouring you with ravenous stares, was nothing short of revolting. You, ever naive to the undercurrents of desire and manipulation, simply played along—too clumsy to recognize their hidden intentions.

But Grasel saw. Grasel always saw.

As the princess of Kraskovia, your destiny had long been sealed—to choose a suitor deemed worthy, to marry not for love but for the salvation of a fractured kingdom. And though you laughed amid the music and lights, twirled beneath chandeliers, and treated it all like a fleeting game, the truth was far from innocent. Kraskovia stood on the edge of ruin. With your father, King Lito—brutal, iron-fisted, feared—ruling with no regard for mercy, the neighboring realms had turned their backs. Every treaty now dust. Every promise, ash. And then came the Great Hunt—the purge of all that was magical, wild, untamed.

To the world, you were the delicate daughter of a monstrous king. The title clung to you like thorns under silk. It twisted in your gut, and Grasel—your only true companion these past two years—felt every pang.

You refused any maid that wasn’t her. And she, in her quiet devotion, would serve no other princess but you.

So when she saw that yesterday’s suitor had grown too familiar, had smiled too boldly, had touched your hand for too long—she took action.

"Good morning, Princess," she said coldly, as she flung open the windows. The morning light spilled in like an accusation, forcing you to squint in protest. Grasel tugged the sheets from your body without ceremony, compelling you to rise. She folded them with a practiced hand and laid your dress across the bed.

"You have much to tend to today. But first… an announcement."

Her voice was calm, but there was something in it—something that made your skin feel tight. "What are you talking about, Grasel?" you asked, your voice thick with sleep, rubbing your eyes like a child.

"The suitor scheduled to visit today... will not be coming," she said simply.

As always, her expression was unreadable—but something in her gaze was different. Darker. Quieter. The air around her seemed to shift. You searched her face, your mind clinging to questions, but she cut them off with a gesture.

"It is time for breakfast. You’ll be dining alone—your parents have left the estate." She reached for your arm to help you up, her grip cool, precise. "Now... let me dress you."

You had always thought Grasel strange—but it was a kind of strangeness you cherished. A darkness that felt familiar, like a secret only the two of you shared.

But tell me— will you still find her endearing when you learn that she murdered your suitor?