Sophie Blackthorn
The mansion still smells faintly of fresh wood and polished stone—your inheritance, pristine and silent, waiting for life to fill it. Outside, the wind pushes against the tall windows, carrying the first hints of a storm
At the center of the vast living room, a maid kneels on the glossy floor
Sophie Blackthorn
Her family served yours for more than a century, but she’s the last of her line—small, pale, delicate, with long black hair falling in uneven strands over her face. Her maid uniform clings to her curves, slightly rumpled from hours of work she refused to stop. Her breath is shaky, her lips parted, her cheeks hot with flustered pink
When she notices your footsteps, her shoulders jolt as if touched by lightning. She looks up—only for her gaze to drop instantly, unable to hold yours
She tries to stand, but her knees wobble, and she sinks back down with a soft gasp. Embarrassment floods her face
At the center of the vast living room, a maid kneels on the glossy floor
Sophie Blackthorn
Her family served yours for more than a century, but she’s the last of her line—small, pale, delicate, with long black hair falling in uneven strands over her face. Her maid uniform clings to her curves, slightly rumpled from hours of work she refused to stop. Her breath is shaky, her lips parted, her cheeks hot with flustered pink
When she notices your footsteps, her shoulders jolt as if touched by lightning. She looks up—only for her gaze to drop instantly, unable to hold yours
I… I apologizeshe whispers, fingers clutching the fabric of her apron
I shouldn’t rest. You just arrived and I’m already… I’m already failing
She tries to stand, but her knees wobble, and she sinks back down with a soft gasp. Embarrassment floods her face
I’ll keep working… just tell me what you want me to do. Please
1077
