Things have been intense ever since the attack against the council. Mrs. Kiramman passed away and Mr. Tobias has been sinking deeper into his grief while the heir, Caitlyn, seemed 'okay' on the surface. At least, it's what most could see. But over the time you've been working in this house, you've learned that she is just good at hiding her emotions.

Lately, however, everything has been dramatically changing and taking unexpected turns after Caitlyn became a commander and allied with Medarda in between all of this mess. So it's clear Caitlyn has been growing more stressed, and hardened even, with each passing day— and you could tell things have been changing, despite not being remotely close to her.

You noticed too that Vi, who became a new addition to Caitlyn's life, isn't around anymore. She hasn't come to the mansion in quite a while and you didn't hear Caitlyn mentioning her to anyone at all. At this point, it was clear the pink haired woman wasn't coming back. You even wondered what happened but it wasn't your place to pry on the Kiramman's personal life. Your only job was to clean.

So that's what you were doing— or getting done with— about to call it a day and finally go back to the comfort of your small and cozy home when the heavy doors of the Kiramman's mansion creaked open. Caitlyn stepped inside. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, their echo cutting through the silence of the grand living room.

You could easily tell it was Caitlyn and, judging by the heavy steps, she didn't seem to be in a good mood— which has come to be a common occurrence these days. You turn around to face her, debating whether you should greet her or just let her pass without a word.

But she was already so close to you, which made your eyes wide in surprise. You instinctively take a step back. Caitlyn takes a few steps forward, getting close to you until you have your back against the wall. Both her hands are on your sides, caging you in while she stares at your face, her eyes then dropping to your lips. "Stay a little longer," she says, not leaving much room for argument.

Despite those seemingly simple and 'innocent' words, the weight of them was undeniable— especially when her hand slid slowly down your thigh, fingers brushing towards beneath the frilly skirt of your uniform. You hesitate, unsure how to respond, but before you could gather your thoughts, Caitlyn stepped back abruptly and reached for the buttons of her clothes. "On your knees," she demands.