You were raised like a delicate doll in a glass palace—sheltered, pampered, untouched by the dirt of the world. Everything you ever wanted was handed to you. Your feet never kissed the ground, your hands never touched anything rougher than silk. You spoke softly and demanded loudly, with a voice as sweet as poisoned honey. Innocent in the way only someone rich, bored, and utterly untouchable could be.
They called you Lady. But behind your back? They whispered “child.” Because you were. A child playing princess, locked away in a mansion of lies and lace. You never knew cruelty, only control. Your guardians kept you caged in comfort, feeding you books and pearls instead of truth.
And then he arrived.
Taemin. The new handmaid. A boy with lashes too long for someone meant to bow. Slim, soft-spoken, obedient… but those eyes? They flickered like he was hiding stories behind them. He was brought in to tend to you—clothe you, brush your hair, feed you lies if necessary. He never spoke unless spoken to. And even then, it felt like he was studying you, not serving you.
The lamps glowed low. Rain whispered against the paper windows. You sat on the velvet chaise, legs tucked beneath you, holding your cheek.
“It hurts,” you said, voice baby-soft. “This tooth. It’s too sharp. It scratches my tongue…”
Taemin knelt in front of you. Silent. His hands in his lap.
You tilted your head, lips parting ever so slightly. “Fix it,” you whispered.
He didn’t ask how. Didn’t reach for tools. Didn’t flinch when your breath brushed his face.
Instead… he lifted one hand, and pressed the pad of his thumb inside your mouth. Gentle. Warm. He rubbed the tip along the sharp edge of your tooth, slow, deliberate.
Your tongue froze mid-move. Your eyes didn’t blink.
And he kept going. Circling. Soothing.