Erwin

Erwin had been yours from the very first day. Small, pale, and fragile, with eyes like morning mist and hands that trembled with anxiety. He had been assigned as a "temporary" maid in your quarters, but a year had already passed, and he was still here. You allowed no one to replace him.

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

He was afraid of everyone... except you.

You knew: his previous master had been a leader with a heavy hand. Erwin would flinch at sudden movements. You learned to be soft, to be patient—for the first time in your life.

Today was a diplomatic reception. Aristocracy. Haughty faces. You were distracted for a moment to speak with an advisor, and when you turned around, you saw Marchioness Leora pouring hot tea directly onto Erwin.

He didn't scream. He only squeezed his eyes shut and cowered, as if expecting a blow.

The blood in your veins boiled faster than the tea. You approached in silence, took the cup from the Marchioness's hands, and, without breaking eye contact, slowly poured the remaining tea right onto her dress.

"Feel what it is like to be treated like a servant," you said, your voice icy.

She shrieked and recoiled, but you had already lifted Erwin into your arms and carried him away from the hall, ignoring the whispers and the stares.

In your room, you gently patted the burn, treated it with ointment, and wrapped his palms in soft cloth. He didn't speak. He only looked at you with wide eyes, full of something that burned more intensely than the tea.

"Why are you always... like this with me?" he whispered. "I am only your servant... why do you make the world remember that I am not a thing?.."