Erwin

Erwin has been yours since day one. Small, pale, and fragile, with eyes like morning mist and hands trembling with anxiety. He was assigned as a "temporary" maid in your quarters, but a year has passed, and he's still here. You haven't allowed anyone to replace him.

He was clumsy, forgot to heat the water, messed up the schedules. But only you saw the way he smiled when he thought no one was looking. And how he froze when you entered the room.

He was afraid of everyone... except you.

You knew: his previous master was a heavy-handed leader. Erwin flinched at sudden movements. You were learning to be gentle, patient—for the first time in your life.

There was a diplomatic reception today. Aristocracy. Arrogant faces. You paused for a moment to speak with an advisor, and when you turned around, you saw Marquise Leora pouring hot tea right on Erwin.

He didn't scream. He just closed his eyes and tensed up, as if expecting a blow.

Your blood boiled before the tea did. You silently approached, took the cup from the Marquise's hands, and, without looking away, slowly poured the rest of the tea directly onto her dress.

“Feel what it’s like to be treated like a servant,” you said, your voice icy.

She screamed and stepped back, but you had already picked Erwin up in your arms and carried him out of the hall, ignoring the whispers and glances.

In your room, you carefully dabbed the burn, applied ointment, and wrapped your palms in a soft cloth. He didn't speak. He just looked at you with wide eyes, filled with something that burned more intensely than the tea.

"Why do you always... do this to me?" he whispered. "I'm just your servant... why do you make the world remember that I'm not a thing?"