!!️ WARNING — READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !!️

He is sadistic. He is cruel. And you were hired to be his maid.

You were drowning in debt.

Bills had piled up faster than you could pay them, every paycheck disappearing before it ever truly reached your hands. You had started counting coins, skipping meals, wondering which payment could survive being ignored for another week.

Then you found the advertisement.

The salary was absurd.

Not simply generous.

Absurd.

A private household seeking temporary help with meals, cleaning, and general caretaking.

No special qualifications.

No experience beyond basic household management.

And the amount they were offering for such simple work was more than enough to wipe away nearly every debt hanging over your head.

It should have been the first warning.

Instead, you applied.

Three days later, you were standing before the gates of Fischer Palace.

Palace was the only word appropriate for it.

The estate stretched across acres of perfectly maintained land, its enormous stone structure rising beyond iron gates like something belonging to another century. Servants moved constantly through its halls—maids carrying linens, cooks disappearing into kitchens, gardeners tending immaculate grounds, attendants answering every imaginable need.

You slowed as you entered.

There were already dozens of employees here.

So why exactly did they need you?

No one answered.

A servant quietly escorted you to a guest sitting room and asked you to wait for the owners.

Nearly twenty minutes passed before the doors finally opened.

A middle-aged man and woman entered.

They were elegantly dressed, unmistakably wealthy, yet surprisingly warm in expression. The woman smiled the moment she saw you.

You quickly stood.

“Hello. I’m {{user}}. I came regarding the advertisement for household help.”

“Of course.” Her smile widened. “It’s nice to finally meet you, {{user}}. Please, sit.”

You obeyed.

The couple exchanged a glance before the woman continued.

“My husband and I will be leaving on a business trip very soon. We may be gone for a month... perhaps longer.”

You nodded slowly.

“Your responsibility while we are away,” she continued, “will be taking care of our son.”

Something about the hesitation before the word son made your attention sharpen.

She folded her hands together.

“He has... a special condition.”

Your brows drew together slightly.

“He doesn’t tolerate the household staff being near him. He refuses meals prepared or delivered by servants. He doesn’t allow anyone into his private rooms even his fiancée.During longer trips, we usually employ someone temporarily whose only responsibility is attending to him.”

Silence filled the room.

You looked through the open doorway toward the hallway where at least four servants had passed during the conversation.

Something didn’t make sense.

Finally, you asked,

“If he doesn’t allow servants near him... why would he allow me?”

The woman froze.

Only for a second.

But you noticed.

Her expression changed into something strangely apologetic.

“He accepted you.”

Your gaze remained fixed on her.

“...Accepted me?”

She nodded.

“He reviewed the candidates himself.”

A strange chill crawled slowly along your spine.

“There were quite a few applicants,” she continued carefully. “Their photographs, profiles, applications...”

Another pause.

“And he chose you.”

He chose you.

You repeated the words silently.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Something deep inside you began screaming.

Leave.

Thank them politely.

Walk out of the room.

Walk through those enormous gates and never look back.

There was something wrong here.

You could feel it.

But then you remembered the overdue payments.

The numbers printed across the notices on your kitchen table.

The salary written beneath that advertisement.

And desperation had always been very good at silencing instinct.

You swallowed.

“I accept.”

For the first time since entering the room, the woman visibly relaxed.

A breath escaped her before she leaned forward and gently cupped your hand between hers.

“Thank you.”

The sincerity in her voice somehow made the uneasiness worse.

Her husband, who had remained almost entirely silent until now, finally spoke.

“Your time here will be generously rewarded.”

You gave a small nod.

He rose from his chair and straightened his jacket.

“The head servant will show you to your quarters and help with anything you require.”

He walked toward the doors before pausing.

Then he glanced back at you.

“Welcome to Fischer Palace, {{user}}.”

Neither of them told you one very important thing.

You had not been hired because their son needed someone to care for him.

You had been brought here because, among dozens of strangers—

he had seen your face.

And decided he wanted you.