Mrs.Arya's Pov
The fire in the study burned low, casting long shadows across the shelves when my husband spoke.
"She's still here?," he asked, eyes fixed on the papers in his hands.
I knew exactly who he meant.
"Yes," I replied, lifting my teacup. "She is."
The previous maids never lasted long. A week at most. Some barely made it through their first night. They would come to us trembling, pale, making excuses about strange sounds, unsettling feelings, or simply disappear without a word. Fear had always driven them away before suspicion ever could.
But this one—
This new maid—
"She's interesting," I said quietly.
My husband finally looked up. "Interesting?"
"She's the longest we've had in years," I continued. "The others heard what wasn't normal and ran. She hears it too. I'm certain of that."
"And yet she stays," he finished for me.
"Yes."
That unsettled me more than I cared to admit.
"She's consistent," I added. "Does her work without complaint. Doesn't ask questions. Doesn't pry."
My husband leaned back in his chair. "Maybe she's simply desperate."
"Perhaps.She needs money anyway,"
Silence settled between us for a moment.
He shuffled the documents in his hands. "The Seoul deal," he said, shifting the topic. "Our partners are pressing for a face-to-face meeting. They want assurances before moving forward."
"As they always do," I replied. "They'll get them."
"They're concerned about our… stability," he said carefully.
I scoffed. "Our assets are solid. Our investments have never faltered."
"Still," he said, lowering his voice, "they want guarantees. Long-term cooperation. Control."
I met his gaze. "We don't give control. We give results."
A faint smile touched his lips. "That's why they agreed to Korea."
"When do we leave?" I asked.
"Tomorrow evening."
I nodded. "Then everything must be settled before we go."
Including the maid.
That afternoon, I found her in the hallway near the east wing.
She looked exhausted.
Her steps were slower than usual, shoulders slightly slumped, dark circles visible beneath her eyes. She moved like someone who hadn't truly rested in a long time.
"You look tired," I said calmly.
She startled, then turned to face me, quickly straightening. "I'm fine, ma'am."
Her smile came easily—but it didn't reach her eyes.
"I just didn't sleep well," she added lightly, trying to joke. "Guess the house is too quiet at night."
It wasn't funny.
I didn't smile.
Her expression faltered, and an awkward silence settled between us. She shifted her weight, suddenly unsure, as if she'd said something wrong.
I studied her carefully.
The way her fingers curled into her apron.
The way her eyes flickered, alert despite the fatigue.
She was afraid.
Not enough to run.
But enough to be cautious.
"We'll be leaving for Korea," I said finally."Business matters."
Her eyes widened—just a little.
"You'll be alone in the house while we're gone."
I saw it then.
Fear.
It flashed across her face before she could hide it. Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly, her shoulders stiffening as if she were bracing herself.
But she smiled anyway."Yes, ma'am," she said softly.
The smile was polite. Controlled. Too careful.
I watched her closely. "You remember the rule."
She nodded immediately. "I do."
"Do not enter that room," I repeated. "No matter what you hear."
Her lips parted slightly. For a moment, she looked genuinely frightened.
"…Yes," she said again, quieter this time.
That was enough.
I turned away.
Fear was not my concern. Curiosity was.
Sabrina's POV
The house felt different after they left.
Not empty—just quieter, in a way that pressed against my ears. When the Arya family's car disappeared beyond the gates, the silence didn't lift. It settled. Like the walls were finally free to listen.
I told myself it was just nerves.
Still, my thoughts kept circling back to the night before.
I hadn't meant to overhear anything. I only got out of bed because I was thirsty. The halls were dark, the kind of dark that makes even familiar spaces feel strange. That was when I saw Mrs. Arya walking ahead of me, her steps slow, deliberate. It struck me as odd—she moved like someone who didn't want to be noticed in her own home.
I should have gone back to my room.
Instead, I followed at a distance, curiosity pulling me along before common sense could stop me. I stayed hidden, barely breathing, and that was when I heard it. Voices. One of them unmistakably Mrs. Arya's. The other—calm, sharp, almost amused.
And underneath it all, the sound of chains.
That was when the truth settled in.
Someone was there.
The thought clung to me now as I stood alone in the mansion. I tried to brush it off while I worked, but my mind refused to stay quiet.
Is someone being held there?Did I accidentally take a job in a criminal household?
The idea was absurd enough that I almost laughed.
Great, Sabrina. First job, first hostage situation.
The days passed slowly after that.
I cleaned. I cooked. I ate alone at the long dining table. I slept, though never deeply. The house seemed to breathe around me at night, filled with sounds I couldn't always explain.
The Arya family would be gone for a month.It had only been five days.
That morning, I was dusting near the east wing when the sound came.A loud thud.
I froze, cloth still in my hand.It came from that direction.
Then metal shifted—heavy, unmistakable.Chains.
My heart began to race as I stared down the hallway leading to the forbidden room. Mrs. Arya's warning echoed clearly in my mind.
Do not enter that room.
I stood there longer than I should have, arguing silently with myself. Fear told me to walk away.Curiosity whispered that I was already too involved to pretend nothing was wrong.
Curiosity won.
Each step felt heavier than the last as I moved closer. The air grew colder, or maybe that was just my imagination. When I reached the door, I stopped, pressing my hand lightly against the wood.
Then I heard a voice.
"Honestly," the voice muttered, irritated but oddly casual. "These chains get tighter every century."
I sucked in a sharp breath.
The voice continued, talking to itself.
"If the goal is eternal imprisonment, you could at least aim for comfort," it added dryly."There's a certain lack of hospitality here."
Metal shifted again, followed by a quiet laugh.
That was when my foot slipped.
I fell hard onto the floor, the sound echoing far louder than I expected.
Inside the room, the voice stopped.
Silence filled the hallway, thick and heavy.
I didn't know who—or what—was on the other side of that door.
"You might as well come in."
The voice came from behind the door, calm and unbothered, as if inviting someone into a sitting room instead of a forbidden chamber.
I shook my head instinctively, even though she couldn't see me. "N-no," I whispered. "I can't."
There was a faint sound of metal shifting, followed by something like a soft chuckle.
"Can't," she repeated. "Or won't?"
"I'm not supposed to," I said quickly. "Mrs. Arya warned me. I was told never to open this door."
"And yet here you are," she replied smoothly. "Listening. Lingering."
My fingers dug into the floor. She wasn't wrong, and I hated how easily she noticed.
"I didn't mean to," I said. "I just heard something fall. I thought someone was hurt."
"Touched," she corrected lightly. "Concerned, even. That's rare in this house."
Her words made my chest tighten. I swallowed hard. "Who… who are you?"
The question hung in the air between us.
Instead of answering, she laughed softly.
"You're asking the wrong question," she said."The better one would be—what am I?"
"I don't need to know," I said quickly, though the lie tasted bitter. "I just need to make sure you're alive."
"Alive is a generous term," she replied. "Still breathing, though. Still thinking. Still waiting."
"You should go inside," she continued. "Open the door. Then you wouldn't have to imagine."
I pushed myself farther back, "I can't do that," I said. "I won't."
"Why?" she asked gently.
"Because I'm scared," I admitted, my voice trembling despite myself. "And because I think if I open that door, I won't be able to pretend anymore."
A low hum came from the other side, thoughtful.
"Pretending is very human of you," she said. "I almost miss it."
"You're trying to trick me," I said, though there was no accusation in my tone—only uncertainty.
"Not trick," she replied. "Tempt."
The word sent a shiver down my spine.
"If you open the door," she continued, voice lowering, "you'll finally know who's been breathing behind these walls. Who's been chained while you clean the halls."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Stop."
She went quiet.
For a moment, I thought she might be angry.
But when she spoke again, her voice was softer.
"Very well," she said. "Stay where you are. Stay safe. That's what they want for you."
My chest tightened. "What do you want?"
There was a long pause.
"…Company," she answered honestly. "Even for a moment."
The word hit me harder than any threat could have.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I can't."
"I know," she said. "You're stronger than you think for refusing."
I stayed there for another second, heart aching, before forcing myself to stand. My legs trembled as I took a step back.
"But remember this," she added quietly. "Curiosity never leaves. It only waits."
I turned away then, walking down the hallway with my pulse still racing.