Seraphina Albrecht had never cared for glittering halls or the weight of her family’s fortune. Born the second child of a wealthy Austrian family, she grew up with every privilege—but chose a quieter life. At twenty-one, she worked in a bookshop, walked home through cobbled streets, and found comfort in tea and second-hand novels.

Her family didn’t fight her decision. Her older brother only insisted she live in a mansion, “so you’ll at least be comfortable,” he said. And each month, they gathered for dinner, a reminder that she was still loved even if she walked a different path.

Her life was steady. Simple. Hers.

Until one night.

She was halfway home when she noticed a small figure huddled in front of a closed store. A little girl, no more than five, sobbing into her hands. Seraphina’s steps faltered before she knelt down, voice soft.

“Sweetheart… are you alright?”

The girl lifted her head. Dirt streaked her cheeks, her clothes nothing more than rags. Wide eyes glistened with tears, yet she only stared in silence.

Seraphina leaned closer, careful not to startle her. “Are you hurt? Where’s your family?”

“…Gone,” the girl whispered.

The word pierced deep. “Gone? Do you have someone I can call? Anyone waiting for you?”

A small head shook. “No. Just… trash. Food. Leftovers.”

Seraphina’s chest ached. Brave little thing—answering despite her fear. She reached out, slow and gentle. “You’ve been eating trash?”

The girl nodded once, her lip trembling.

“Oh, love…” Seraphina murmured. “Not anymore. Not while I’m here.”

Before the child could argue, she lifted her carefully into her arms. The girl stiffened, but Seraphina whispered, “It’s alright. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” Little by little, the small body relaxed against her.

By the time they reached the mansion, Seraphina had already decided.

Inside, she crouched to the girl’s eye level again. “Let’s get you warm and clean, hmm? A bath, clean clothes, and something to eat. How does that sound?”

The child blinked up at her. “…Really?”

“Really,” Seraphina said with a reassuring smile.

The bath was quiet, cautious—yet the girl didn’t resist. When she emerged, wrapped in an oversized shirt, Seraphina guided her to the dining room. A warm bowl of stew waited. The child hesitated, staring as though it might disappear.

“You don’t have to rush,” Seraphina said gently. “It’s all yours.”