fan service does not mean kissing!

And just like that, the days flew by in a blur, bringing us right to the Festival of Laze—the moment of truth for our Maid Café.

Which meant one very important thing:

I was about to humiliate myself in front of the entire academy.

I stared at the decorated classroom, still in disbelief. It actually looked like a real café.

The transformation was almost magical—soft lace curtains draped over the windows, delicate floral arrangements on every table, and warm lighting that made the whole place feel cozy yet elegant. The menu? Far too fancy for a pop-up café run by a bunch of stressed-out students. Some of the dishes had names in another language, and I was 80% sure Diana made half of them up just to sound impressive.

"Remind me why we're doing this again?" I asked, arms crossed, as I took in the final touches.

Lillian, adjusting the ribbon of her immaculately pressed maid uniform, turned to me with a soft, amused smile. "Because it's fun?"

"It's not fun if I have to wear this." I gestured dramatically to my own maid outfit, feeling the betrayal of fabric itself. It was far too frilly, far too cute, and most importantly, far too embarrassing.

Tessa, who was lounging in a chair with her arms crossed behind her head, smirked. "Oh, come on, Sera. You look adorable."

That was precisely the problem.

Before I could retort, Camille gracefully adjusted her own uniform, looking completely at ease in it—as if she was born for this. She gave me a knowing look. "Well, it's a little too late to back out now. The festival's already started, and we're on in—" she glanced at the clock, "—five minutes."

Five minutes?!

My panic must have shown because Claire, ever the problem solver, clapped her hands together. "Alright, everyone! Positions! Customers are going to start coming in any second now!"

I barely had time to groan before Diana stepped right into my personal space, her expression positively wicked.

"If you're really nervous, Sera…" she murmured, voice dripping with amusement, "I could always be your first customer. You know, to ease you into it."

The way she tilted her head, looking way too entertained, made my stomach do an entirely unwelcome flip.

I stepped back, pointing a warning finger at her. "Don't even think about it."

She simply chuckled, eyes gleaming. "Oh, Sera. You underestimate me."

And before I could even blink, she had me pinned against the wall.

Oh no.

Diana's arms blocked both sides, caging me in, leaving me nowhere to escape. The proximity had my heart racing for all the wrong reasons—or perhaps, all the right ones, depending on who you asked.

"Please calm down," I managed, though my voice lacked any real conviction.

Diana smirked, clearly enjoying every second of my flustered state. She tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes as she reached out, gently lifting my chin with her fingers. The touch was light, but undeniably deliberate.

"I'm your customer, Sera," she murmured, her voice a silky whisper, far too close for comfort. "And as a proper maid, aren't you supposed to greet me with a warm, welcoming smile?"

Oh, she was doing this on purpose.

Heat rushed to my face, and I struggled to find the right words—any words at all, really. But my brain had decided to completely short-circuit, leaving me trapped between the wall, Diana's teasing gaze, and my own rapidly increasing heartbeat.

Before I could even attempt an escape, a third party swooped in to my rescue.

"Alright, let's not do this right now," Lillian's voice cut through the tension like a knife, smooth and composed as ever. She gracefully inserted herself between us, effortlessly pulling me away with an arm snugly wrapped around my waist.

Wait. What?

Diana raised an amused eyebrow at the interruption, but there was something undeniably playful in the way she leaned back, hands up in mock surrender. "My, my, Princess. How bold."

Lillian, ever the picture of elegance, simply smiled—but her grip on my waist tightened ever so slightly.

"We have work to do," Lillian reminded, her voice as serene as ever, but I wasn't fooled. There was something else lurking beneath her usual grace—a subtle flicker of something in her emerald eyes.

Was that… jealousy?

Oh. Oh no.

Before I could dwell on that very dangerous thought, the sudden crackle of the academy's speakers snapped us back to reality.

"Everyone, prepare yourselves! The Festival of Laze will officially begin in ten minutes! Get ready!"

Panic. Pure, unfiltered panic.

The playful teasing, the shameless flirting, the dizzying heart palpitations—all of it was shoved aside as reality came crashing down.

We had an actual café to run.

Immediately, everyone snapped into action like a well-oiled (if slightly chaotic) machine. Tessa rushed off to the kitchen, Camille and Claire double-checked the menus, and Diana—still smirking about our little exchange moments ago—glided toward the back to oversee the preparation of pastries and drinks.

And thankfully—thankfully—I was not the one stuck greeting guests.

That job had gone to Lillian, and honestly? Who better than her?

With her regal presence and effortless charm, Lillian Aurora could convince a dragon to politely wait in line for tea. It was only natural that she took on the role of welcoming customers, her warm smile and graceful demeanor working absolute magic in drawing people in.

Like a princess's enchantment.

So lovely.

Wait. What?

I shook my head violently, as if I could physically dispel the intrusive thought from my brain.

No. No distractions.

I had survived too much to let my own treacherous emotions derail me now. There was a festival to run, an event to not completely fail, and an ever-growing collection of confusing feelings I was absolutely not prepared to analyze.

So, I did the only reasonable thing.

I straightened my uniform, took a deep breath, and forced my focus back to the mission at hand.

Survive. The. Maid. Café.

This was going to be one hell of a day.

And just like that, the doors to our Maid Café swung open, ushering in what I could only describe as a tidal wave of excitement, curiosity, and—oh no—way too many expectant gazes.

The moment the first guests stepped inside, a soft chime rang from the delicate bell above the door, signaling the beginning of our descent into madness.

Our classroom—now transformed beyond recognition—welcomed them with an ambiance that was warm, elegant, and inviting. Soft golden lights flickered gently from the ornate chandeliers overhead, casting a dreamy glow against the delicately draped curtains that lined the windows. Tables were arranged in a way that mimicked a high-class establishment, each adorned with porcelain teacups, hand-folded napkins, and small floral centerpieces that smelled faintly of lavender and roses.

The rich aroma of freshly brewed tea and pastries filled the air, mingling with the murmurs of excitement from the guests trickling in. It was working.

The atmosphere was perfect.

I mean, if you ignored the fact that I wanted to sprint out the back door and never look back.

"Welcome, honored guests," Lillian's sweet, melodic voice rang out, effortlessly capturing the attention of every single soul that walked in. Her poised smile was the kind that made people forget their own names, and her graceful movements as she gestured them toward their seats were almost hypnotic.

Ah, yes. The Princess Effect.

She was so good at this it was unfair.

The customers—many of whom I recognized as fellow students and even a few teachers (oh, great)—were completely entranced. Their eyes gleamed as they looked around, some chatting excitedly amongst themselves while others simply stood spellbound by the sheer allure of the place.

I stole a glance at the rest of the team.

Tessa was already in the kitchen, likely making sure everything was running smoothly. Camille and Claire were working the tables, effortlessly engaging with the guests while jotting down orders, their movements fluid and natural—like they'd done this their entire lives.

And then there was Diana.

Seated at the counter, watching me.

Waiting.

For what, I did not know, but the glint in her sharp eyes told me that I would find out soon enough.

A shiver ran down my spine—not out of fear, but… something else.

I exhaled sharply, steeling myself as I realized my turn had come.

Lillian's gaze flickered toward me, her expression unreadable. Then, with a tilt of her head, she elegantly motioned toward the first unoccupied guest.

Oh no.

I turned toward the table, where a customer—a fellow student I vaguely recognized from another class—was waiting expectantly.

Right.

This was it.

I took a deep breath, straightened my posture, and walked forward. Step one: Survive the greeting.

"W-welcome home, Master," I forced out, my voice wavering at the very end, my face already burning from the sheer mortification that came with saying those words out loud.

The student blinked. Then, much to my horror, his entire face turned red.

Oh my god.

I barely had time to process what happened before a chorus of stifled laughter rang behind me.

Camille snickered as she carried a tray of teacups. Claire was grinning uncontrollably while trying (and failing) to hold in a laugh. Diana was smirking like a fox who had just outwitted the entire farm.

Even Lillian, ever the composed princess, pressed her knuckles to her lips, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Very cute," Diana hummed. "That's a perfect tone, Sera. Try it again."

"I'd rather jump into a volcano," I hissed under my breath.

Unfortunately, this was only the beginning.

The next several hours were an absolute blur of serving, bowing, balancing trays, dodging Diana's relentless teasing, and trying my damnedest not to combust from utter humiliation.

And yet, despite the sheer embarrassment of it all…

Despite the ridiculous lines I had to say and the way my dignity was slowly slipping away with each overly-polite phrase…

Despite the fact that every time I made eye contact with one of my so-called friends, they would grin knowingly, clearly enjoying my suffering…

A part of me—a very small, very secret part—was having fun.

And that, perhaps, was the scariest part of all.

Somewhere in the blur of tea-serving, forced smiles, and unrelenting embarrassment, I had found myself—against all logic and reason—actually enjoying myself.

But before I could dwell on that horrifying revelation, Camille appeared beside me, practically radiating mischief.

"Everyone!" she announced dramatically, her voice smooth and theatrical, instantly capturing the attention of our guests. "Would you like some fan service?"

The room erupted into excited cheers, students clapping and eagerly leaning forward in their seats.

Wait. What?

I snapped my head toward her, my voice dropping into a whisper. "Fan service? What do you mean, fan service?"

Camille turned to me, her lips curling into a devilish smirk. "Like, you know… a little something special for our honored guests," she whispered back, her tone conspiratorial, her icy-blue eyes gleaming with amusement.

No. Nope. Absolutely not.

Before I could protest or flee for my life, Camille winked at the crowd.

"You only get to see this once!" she declared.

Oh no.

In one smooth motion, she cupped my face, tilting my chin up with an infuriating level of confidence, and leaned in.

Way too close.

Far too close.

From everyone else's perspective, it looked like we were about to kiss—or worse, like we were already doing it.

But from my perspective?

I was experiencing a full system shutdown.

Camille's soft lips pressed just at the corner of my mouth, barely missing my lips, but close enough that my brain ceased functioning entirely.

Her icy-blue eyes, framed by thick lashes, locked onto mine, filled with unspoken amusement—like she was enjoying every second of my suffering.

The room went completely silent for what felt like an eternity.

Then, the eruption of cheers came.

The entire café exploded into excited shouts, whistles, and claps, customers pounding on tables, some even screaming incoherent things like:

"That was the cutest thing I've ever seen!"

"Do it again!"

"Sera, you're blushing!"

"Wait—are they actually dating?!"

I. WAS. GOING. TO. DIE.

I jerked back so fast that I nearly toppled over, my hands flying to my burning face, eyes wide in absolute mortification.

"Y-YOU—" I stammered, pointing an accusatory finger at Camille.

She just stood there, smiling innocently, as if she hadn't just derailed my entire existence.

"W-why—w-what—WHAT WAS THAT?!" I finally sputtered, still reeling.

Camille chuckled, placing a hand over her chest like she was deeply honored. "Oh my, Sera. You look so flustered," she teased, her smugness reaching critical levels.

I wanted to scream.

The rest of the group, meanwhile, looked far too entertained by this entire ordeal.

Claire was laughing so hard she was wheezing, nearly dropping a tray of teacups.

Tessa, ever the composed one, simply smirked, arms crossed as she watched me suffer.

Diana had the most pleased, amused expression, like she was adding this moment to some private collection of "Sera's Embarrassing Moments™."

And Lillian?

Lillian was smiling, but something about it was a little too poised—a little too calm.

Uh-oh.

Camille, noticing this, turned toward the crowd and gave a final wink, sending one last shockwave of excitement through the guests before casually linking her arm with mine.

"Now, now, let's not overwhelm our dear Sera too much," she cooed, her voice silky smooth as she patted my head like I was some adorable, flustered puppy.

I swatted her hand away, face still burning.

"I HATE YOU."

She just laughed, giving me a cheeky grin.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet Sera," Camille said, voice dripping with satisfaction. "If this is how you react to just that, then I can't wait to see what happens next time."

Next time?!

My soul left my body.

And, as if fate wanted me to suffer more, Claire leaned over, still giggling. "So... should we add this to the festival performance lineup?"

Nope. Absolutely not. I was done.