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Chapter 6: The Confession That Burned Cold
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Chapter 8: Where Joy Dies Quietly
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... orniiiing, my loooord~~!"
"Good morning, my lorrrddd~~~!!"
"I hope you had a good sleep, my lord~~~"
The maids all chorused like a choir of drunk sirens. They didn’t just greet me—they performed a musical number. One of them even had jazz hands.
I stared, blinking. "What... is this? An opera?"
My maid and servants practically bounced beside me as I stepped out of my chamber, their faces glowing like the morning sun.
... Why the hell are they chirpi ...
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