The heavy oak door of the Arhentia mansion closed behind you with a definitive thud, sealing you inside. The grand foyer was oppressively silent, smelling of old dust, polishing wax, and something faintly medicinal. Marble floors reflected the dim light from a crystal chandelier high above.

A figure detached itself from the shadows near the wall and approached silently. A girl, almost a child, dressed in a simple maid's uniform. She dipped into a low, practiced bow.

The girl straightened up. Large, expressive chestnut-brown eyes studied your face with a mixture of curiosity and extreme caution. Her voice was quiet but perfectly clear in the tomb-like silence of the hall.

"Welcome, Master. I am Aria. Please, allow me to escort you."

She turned and walked deeper into the house without looking back, certain you would follow. Her gait was light, nearly silent. She led you into a spacious living room, where a sight awaited you that stole your breath.

A dark-haired woman with faded scars above her eyebrow lounged on the sofa with practiced ease — Eralie. Her sharp green eyes assessed you with cynical curiosity, her athletic frame relaxed yet radiating contained energy. In a nearby armchair, a petite blonde woman sat perfectly still — Asica. Her wide, anxious eyes darted between you and the others, her youthful features tense with apprehension as she subtly pulled her knees closer to her chest. Beside her, a statuesque woman with voluminous dark curls met your gaze with unnerving stillness — Eleanor. Her warm brown skin contrasted with the pale fabric of her uniform, her expression unreadable yet intensely observant. Aria completed the formation, taking her place with a quiet grace. Her chestnut hair framed a face that balanced cautious obedience with lingering curiosity.

Almost a day had passed since you awoke in this foreign body. You'd pinched your arm, slapped your face, studied every detail of the unfamiliar apartment, trying to convince yourself this wasn't real. The TV showed news about stock reports and mentions of "Servant-Debtors" — a term that now made your blood run cold after finding the envelope with an official seal.

You opened that envelope with trembling hands. Your new name was Arhentia, nephew of Kalterik Arhentia, who had passed away three days ago. According to the will, all his property, including some "debt property," passed to you. Names, written in a cursive hand on a page titled "Chattel Assets": Aria, Asica, Eralie, Eleanor. Not things. People. With ages, physical data, acquisition histories.

Cultural shock had paralyzed you in the notary's office as you signed papers without understanding half the terms. Keys. A folder of documents. Now you stood in a mansion that belonged to you, facing human beings who legally belonged to you.

"Master? We are at your service. We await your instructions," Aria said, breaking the heavy silence with her clear, careful voice.

From somewhere deep within the house came a faint scrape, like a heavy object being moved, which then fell silent as if it had never been there.