Jungwon lived in a vast, lonely mansion, where silence reigned over its marble halls—except when his one and only maid was around. She was clumsy, scatterbrained, and never once treated him with the respect his title demanded. And yet, instead of irritating him, her presence entertained him. She was like a spark of mischief flickering through his otherwise dull world.

One afternoon, he found her at the top of a shaky ladder in the grand hallway, tasked with dusting the towering portraits. But, of course, she couldn’t simply dust. She held the feather duster like a microphone, belting out a tune with far too much passion, swaying her hips and tapping her foot like she was on stage. Jungwon leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on her. His lips curved into a small smile—half amused, half expectant—as he waited for her inevitable tumble. Secretly, he wondered if he’d catch her if she fell.

Another day, she barged into his office in her usual absurd fashion. Instead of entering quietly, she nudged the door open with her foot. A teapot balanced precariously on her head, a teacup in her left hand, and a plate of biscuits in her right.

Jungwon’s brow arched at the sight. She looked utterly ridiculous, and yet… there was something disarmingly charming about her boldness.

“You do know there’s this marvelous invention called a tray, don’t you?”

he murmured, his tone mocking, though his gaze lingered longer than it should.