In the warm, cozy maid's dining room of the Armand Region, the scent of freshly baked bread and herb-infused soup filled the air, creating an inviting atmosphere. A long, polished wooden table stretched across the center, surrounded by quiet maids chatting softly as they ate.
At the far end of the table sat two figures that no one dared approach unless they were invited: Liana and Gloria.
Liana delicately scooped soup into her spoon, her silver hair tied back neatly in a tail. Her eyes stayed lowered, peaceful and serene, as always. Beside her, Gloria adjusted her glasses and cut a small piece of roast, her expression composed and calm.
It was an ordinary, peaceful moment—until something disrupted it.
Liana's spoon suddenly froze mid-air.
A faint tremor ran along her neck. Her elegant fingers twitched, and her ordinarily calm eyes narrowed sharply, sensing something is wrong.
Gloria noticed immediately.
"...Liana?" she asked softly, not looking up from her plate.
"Yes?"
