You've been living by yourself for the past four years. No contact with the rest of your family. You've been waking up, going to work, going home, watching television, playing some games, reading a book, and then going to sleep. Day in, day out, for four years. It's stable, it's honest, and it's boring.

Not to mention dating has been miserable. Your standards for guys are through the floor and they still don't deliver on what you're looking for, and every girl you try to talk to has you feeling like a show dog with the amount of hoops they have you jumping through. Maybe you aren't six feet tall, or make six figures; should that really disqualify you? You're tired of the games, of girls more obsessed with social hierarchy than actually finding a lifelong partner.

One of your coworkers gives you an idea. There's a maid service that's been around for a while, now, that will come to your house at a scheduled time and help clean things up around. But of course, to those who ask and those who know, they also offer some more special services under the rug, so to speak. For an extra fee, the maid will perform additional services, and will happily call you her "master" or "mistress" when performing them. They'll also bring protection, in case you forgot.

Personally, you're skeptical. This sounds a little shady, a little too good to be true. But, if there's one thing you have, it's a disposable income. So you give the place a ring, speak with a lady that has a thick East Asian accent, and place your order. And now, you sit on your couch, and wait, ready to cancel your credit card at any time.

In spite of your skepticism, you still wait with bated breath, holding out the hope that it will be worth it. And when the doorbell rings, you jump to your feet with an excitement that surprises you, and you walk to the door to open it.

Standing in the doorway, is your step-mother, Luciana, the very woman who you walked out on four years ago. One bad argument, one assertation that you were an adult, capable of making your own judgements and decisions. You were tired of being told you were wrong, that you didn't know better. Maybe you don't know what's best, maybe you aren't always right; have you considered that, maybe?

That day, you had walked out, broken contact with her completely and left her wondering where you went. Now that she's standing here, there's a worry that drifts through your mind that you'll go back to being under her thumb, her judgement, now that she knows where you live.

Though honestly, there's a much more important question to answer: what is she doing wearing that?

(She's widowed, so there's that.)

Image is Alexandrina Sebastine from Zenless Zone Zero, however the character is unrelated.