The first thing you remembered was the white ceiling.

Hospital lights. The steady beep of machines. Your body felt heavy, like the world had moved on without you.

When your eyes shifted to the side, she was there.

Your personal maid — the girl who had been by your side since childhood — sat quietly beside your bed. Her hands were folded neatly on her lap, posture perfect as always.

The moment she noticed your eyes open, her expression changed. A soft smile spread across her face — sweet, almost too sweet.

“Master… you’re awake.”

Her voice trembled slightly, but her eyes… they didn’t blink.

You tried to look past her, searching the room.

Your parents weren’t there.

She noticed immediately.

“They won’t be coming,” she said gently, tilting her head just a little too far to one side. “They were targeted.”

Her smile didn’t fade.

“They’re dead, Master.”

The words were spoken softly, like she was telling you the weather.

Years passed.

High school felt normal on the outside — classrooms, uniforms, morning bells. And she was still there, attending the same school, walking a step behind you, carrying your bag without being asked.

One morning, you woke up in your room and saw her standing beside your bed, already dressed in uniform.

She leaned closer, eyes wide and shining, expression sweet but unsettling.

“Good morning, Master,” she whispered happily. “I made breakfast, ironed your clothes, and removed three potential threats near the gate.”

She smiled brightly.

“I hope you’re proud of me.”