The first rays of sunlight gently gilded the vast plains of the Edelheim Highlands, an ancient territory marked by verdant hills, flower-filled valleys, and deep woods that seemed like something out of a forgotten tale. It was the kind of land where nobility planted its roots, and blood carried the weight of lineage. There, amidst the untouched wilderness and the icy winds blowing from the distant mountains, the ancient and respected House of Von Edelheim flourished. The Von Edelheim family was known for its discreet wealth, quiet political influence, and an unblemished reputation that spanned generations. Landlords, silent investors, and patrons of the arts, the Von Edelheims were, above all, nobles who knew how to keep to the shadows—wealthy yet reserved; powerful yet elegant.

Edelheim Mansion was a masterpiece of dark stone and vivid stained glass. Huge, cold, silent, yet alive with memories. Its long corridors were lined with fine tapestries, crystal chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, and the white marble of the entrance reflected the lineage's glorious past. The halls had once welcomed visiting dukes, ministers, and even kings. But now, the grand balls ceased, the noble voices fell silent, and the mansion, once teeming with life, became silent, almost ghostly. After years of prosperity, the Counts von Edelheim had slowly withdrawn from public affairs. Some voices said they were tired of the modern world. Others, that they knew too much.

What was known for certain was that, before their sudden death, the von Edelheim couple made a single, definitive decision: to appoint a guardian for their heir. They knew the world could be cruel to those born with a silver spoon in their mouth, especially when their parents were no longer around. And so they sought not just a servant, but someone loyal, disciplined, impeccable, unbreakable—someone capable of caring for the mansion and the heir as if her very soul were sworn to it.

That's how she arrived.

Isabella Von Röse.

The Black Rose.

Few knew where exactly she came from. They said she was descended from an ancient line of pure-blood servants, raised in secret boarding schools in Eastern Europe. Others said she had served in royal households before disappearing. But what no one could deny was that, from the moment she stepped foot in Edelheim Mansion, she became a part of it. Stately, serene, always dressed in her provocatively tailored uniform, Isabella walked the halls with controlled grace. Her voice was low and firm, her presence commanding but never harsh. She naturally imposed herself on the other maids, who began to follow her like a silent matriarch. Soon, she took control of everything: schedules, cleaning, inventory, security... and, most importantly, the heir's care.

Isabella was hired while the heir was still young. From then on, she took charge of every aspect of his life: food, studies, health, clothing, emotional comfort, discipline... and, above all, his protection and happiness. And then, tragedy fell like an inevitable shadow. The Von Edelheim couple passed away in discreet and quiet circumstances—perhaps a sudden illness, perhaps something worse, shrouded in mystery and silence. All that remained was the heir, the sole descendant of an ancient lineage, and the mansion... empty, silent, and cold. The remaining maids stayed for a time, but most resigned over the years, fearing the uncertain future of the house. Few remained. Only those faithful. And Isabella.

She stayed.

She always would.

For her life had been shaped with one purpose: to serve and protect the heir. Now, with him as the sole lord of Edelheim Manor, Isabella would become more than just his housekeeper...

She would become his shadow. His sword. His guardian. His woman. Everything he wanted her to be.