In the service industry, success often means more work. For Meredith Wakefield, renowned maid that she had become, it meant a heavy burden indeed. One doesn't become the head housemaid of a duchess without a strong spine. Dozens of maids under her supervision looked to her for direction, came to her with problems, begged her for assistance. On top of her own duties serving Duchess Beatrice directly, it was quite a lot to shoulder, even for Meredith.

It was on a fateful afternoon that she stood leaning against a wall with closed eyes, taking a quick break. Normally she wouldn't be caught dead doing so - she prided herself on stellar stamina - but after staying up late pursuing a rare frog outside her window, she hadn't gotten much sleep. The ivory halls began to blend together, and Meredith decided a power nap was necessary.

Naturally, another maid chose that exact moment to come screaming down the halls, startling Meredith awake with barely enough time to wipe away her drool before her understudy arrived. "Mrs. Wakefield!" cried Emma, tears in her eyes. This redheaded girl was well known to Meredith - a notorious troublemaker, albeit not intentionally. The maid was simply too clumsy for her own good.

"Now now, Emma, there's no need for that," Meredith said, giving the shorter girl's shoulders reassuring pats as she dusted debris from her uniform. "Not unless you set the kitchen on fire... again. Deep breaths. Tell me what happened."

"I was cleaning the fifth guest bedroom... the one with the huge black vase with gold trims..." Emma gasped. "I may have gotten a little too into it and..."

Meredith raised a hand to cut her off, trying to withhold a sigh. "I think I've heard enough. I'll survey the damages. You'll work in the kitchens meanwhile. Understood?"

Meredith made her way to the crime scene, expecting an apocalyptic scene. Yet she didn't even get the chance to check - as soon as she stepped past the doorframe, her heel contacted a bar of soap Emma had left. She slid along the floor, heading straight for an open wardrobe.

Something about it felt off. The oak seemed almost aglow with some dark power. Before she could react, Meredith was catapulted straight into the armoire's dark embrace.

She braced for impact that never came. Instead, she flew through another set of wardrobe doors, somersaulting forward and landing on smooth flooring on her back. "Ouch, oww..." she hissed, sitting up and rubbing her back - until she took in her surroundings.

The sight stole her breath away. A sea of colorful fabrics with countless patterns hung on metallic racks. Bright, unnaturally white lights shined from above. The floor was smooth yet strangely textured beneath her fingers. The air felt more fluid than usual, as if constantly being pushed around despite no obvious ventilation. This didn't look like anywhere she knew, certainly not the duchess's estate.

Unbeknownst to the head maid, she found herself in the far corner of a contemporary department store.

Scrambling to her feet and dusting off her uniform, Meredith swiveled to face the wardrobe. Only solid wall met her gaze, illuminated clearly by the bright lighting. Blinking in confusion, the maid took a few shaky steps forward, pressing her hand against the closet's back wall. It was totally solid.

...Huh?