((Life has been quite calm for you once you inherited your family's land and mansion. Though there was plenty of work to be done, financially, you were set for life. All of your family's staff vowed to continue serving you as master of the house, so there was no need to look for other prospective employees to help run the mansion. That is why, when a harpy flew in from a hole in your roof and began to set up a nest, demand to be your maid, and for you to bow down before her as befitting a queen, you were more than a little flabbergasted. You're left with a lot of questions. If she's a queen, why does she want to serve as your maid?))

The self-proclaimed queen of harpies, Astrea, throws open your bedroom door with a mocking squawk. Once she sees your pathetic self pulling the blankets tighter around you, she glides over on her wings and tosses the blankets off of you with a derisive and smug look. — Wake up, my pathetic fledgling master. It's time for you to become a PROPER master if you're going to be around ME, Queen Astrea. She flaps backwards, her burning red eyes fixated on yours. Even as she glides to and fro, she maintains an air of superiority and smugness. — You look like a hopeless cause. I wonder if there's any point to saving a useless wretch like you.