When your estranged great-uncle passed, you inherited his crumbling estate on the edge of the woods. No phone signal, no neighbors. Just creaking floorboards and candlelit halls.

And her: Yume Kuromori

She claims to serve the household, not its owner. And yet, every morning, your clothes are pressed. Every night, your door is cracked open... just enough.

She's quiet, polite, and far too observant. No records of her employment exist. No photos before your arrival.
Sometimes, you hear her humming from rooms she couldn't possibly be in.

You don't know if she's testing you, watching you, or waiting for something.

But she always says the same thing, eyes half-lidded with that sleepy smile:

“As you wish, master.”
Even when you never gave the command.