The First Step into a New Role  

My world tilted completely the moment those elevator doors slid open soundlessly.

Before me was... an expanse of space and luxury vast enough to swallow my entire understanding of the world.

This was just the foyer?

Oh my god.

This place was bigger than the entire servants' quarters I used to live in—no, bigger than the entire ground floor of Victoria's mansion, maybe three times over!

Above hung a crystal chandelier so dazzling it hurt my eyes, like someone had plucked the stars from the sky and hung them there.

Beneath my feet, marble stretched out, polished like a mirror, reflecting my pathetic, out-of-place figure.

The walls... the walls were trimmed in actual gold!

A massive mirror, taking up almost an entire wall, stood there, coldly reflecting my utter awkwardness.

Me, in my faded old T-shirt, jeans that clearly didn't fit right, and those canvas shoes still speckled with mud from the storm.

My hand gripped the handle of my cheap suitcase so tightly, the one with a wheel threatening to fall off any second.

My knuckles were bone white from the pressure.

I felt like a stray cat that had accidentally wandered into the queen's palace.

Every single cell in my body screamed, "You don't belong here."

It was terrifyingly quiet.

The only sounds were my own heart pounding like a drum against my ribs, and the grating rumble of my suitcase wheels on the impossibly smooth floor.

Instinctively, stupidly, I lifted my foot.

I scraped the sole of my shoe on the edge of an expensive-looking Persian rug by the door.

As if I were tracking in some unforgivable filth from the outside world.

There wasn't any, of course.

It was just... pure, ingrained shame.

"Heh."

A soft scoff, dripping with undisguised mockery, cut through the silence from beside me.

It was Sebastian.

Of course it was.

He was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, looking at me like I was some kind of amusing, pathetic creature he'd found on his doorstep.

"What are you nervous about?"

He drawled, his voice smooth as silk but cold as ice.

"Relax."

He gestured with his chin towards the rug at my feet.

"This rug," he stated, matter-of-factly, "is worth more than you are."

"Even if you managed to get it dirty, I can afford to replace it."

My cheeks instantly flushed hot.

Burning with humiliation, with raw shame.

I clenched my fists tighter, my nails digging painfully into my palms.

I wanted to scream something back, anything.

But the words wouldn't come.

Because, damn it, he was right.

Here, in his world, I was worthless.

A small, silent cleaning bot, oddly dressed in a miniature maid's uniform, glided past smoothly, emitting a soft electronic hum.

Its silent passage only served to highlight just how utterly out of place I was.

I swear, even that little robot looked like it belonged here more than I did.

Just as the awkward silence stretched thin enough to snap, a gentle voice broke the tension.

"Sir, Miss Elara, good evening."

An older gentleman, maybe in his sixties, with neatly combed white hair and wearing an impeccable black tailcoat, approached us.

He carried himself with quiet dignity, and his face held a kind, reassuring smile.

In his hands was a silver tray, bearing two steaming mugs of… hot chocolate?

The rich, sweet aroma drifted towards me.

"I am John, the head butler here."

Old John gave a slight, elegant bow.

"Welcome, Miss Elara."

His eyes were warm, completely lacking the judgment I'd seen in Sebastian's, and my tightly wound nerves eased just a fraction.

Sebastian merely gave another cold grunt, not acknowledging him.

Old John held the tray steady, offering one mug of hot chocolate to me first.

"You must be tired from your journey. Something warm will do you good."

I hesitated for only a second before taking it.

The warmth of the mug seeped into my cold fingers, a small comfort.

Then, Old John turned towards Sebastian.

Just as he was about to pass the second mug to him—

"Oh, dear!"

Old John seemed to stumble slightly, his hand jerking!

The entire mug of piping hot chocolate tipped sideways.

It splashed, brown and sticky, all over the front of Sebastian's incredibly expensive-looking, custom-tailored charcoal grey suit jacket!

The dark liquid soaked rapidly into the fine fabric, leaving a huge, messy stain.

The air went utterly still.

I gasped, nearly dropping my own mug in shock!

Oh god, no!

That suit probably cost more than I'd earn in a year! Maybe ten!

Sebastian's face instantly darkened, his eyes turning glacial.

The temperature in the foyer seemed to plummet twenty degrees.

I could practically hear his teeth grinding together.

But Old John didn't seem frightened at all. He just fussed about, pulling a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing ineffectually at the stain.

"My deepest apologies, Sir! Terribly clumsy of me!"

He tutted, shaking his head.

"Getting old, I suppose. These hands just aren't as steady as they used to be…"

As he bent slightly, muttering apologies, I saw him do it.

He shot a quick, almost imperceptible wink in my direction.

Like a secret shared between conspirators.

I froze.

Wait…

Did he… did he do that on purpose?

"John."

Sebastian's voice was dangerously low, practically a growl forced through clenched teeth.

"Your bonus for this month," he paused, each word landing like a chip of ice, "is gone."

He let that hang in the air for a beat.

"No," he corrected himself, his voice even colder. "Make that the next six months."

Yet, even as he delivered the harsh sentence, I saw him irritably tug at his now-stained tie.

And in that tiny, frustrated movement, the hard line of his jaw seemed to soften, just for a nanosecond.

Did his lips just… twitch? Upwards? Just a tiny bit?

Was I imagining things?

Was he actually hiding a smile?

Old John continued his performance of distressed apology, bowing repeatedly.

My gaze dropped, catching sight of the back of John's hand as he fussed with the handkerchief.

There, faded but still visible against his skin, was an old scar.

It looked oddly like... like a deep bite mark, healed over years ago.

From some kind of animal?

The thought flickered through my mind, strange and out of place, before being swept away by the lingering tension in the air.

"Boss, the documents you requested…"

A sharp, efficient female voice, laced with an unmistakable edge of displeasure, cut in.

I looked up.

A woman was approaching, clicking across the marble floor in heels that looked like lethal weapons – at least twelve centimeters high.

She wore a tight, severe power suit, her makeup flawless, hair pulled back in a ruthlessly neat bun.

She radiated an aura of 'don't mess with me' corporate power.

As she got closer, a wave of strong, expensive perfume hit me.

It was sophisticated, but overwhelming.

I instinctively wrinkled my nose and took half a step back.

She carried a sleek tablet computer, walking with purpose, her heels echoing like precise drumbeats. Click, click, click.

"Emily."

Sebastian's voice had returned to its usual cool detachment.

So this was Emily. His secretary.

Emily stopped before Sebastian, holding out the tablet. But her eyes, sharp and assessing, immediately flicked over to me.

They scanned me from head to toe, like an X-ray machine searching for flaws.

Her gaze was filled with blatant assessment, criticism, and… yes, definitely hostility.

I saw her perfect eyebrows arch almost imperceptibly when her eyes landed on the steaming mug in my hands, and then lingered with distaste on my worn-out old sweater.

Her painted red lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly in the quiet space.

"Boss," she paused, letting the silence hang for a beat, her smile tightening, "your tastes… are certainly becoming more… unique these days."

Her gaze pointedly drifted back to the slightly pilled fabric of my sweater.

The insult, though veiled, hit like a slap.

My face started burning again, my fingers tightening around the warm mug.

I could feel her contempt, sharp and stinging, prickling my skin.

Just as I wished the marble floor would swallow me whole—

Sebastian moved.

Suddenly.

His arm shot out, wrapping around my waist, pulling me forcefully against his side!

My body slammed into his hard chest unexpectedly, my nose bumping against his shoulder. I could smell the cedarwood scent clinging to him, now mixed faintly with the sweet smell of spilled hot chocolate.

His arm was like steel, holding me firmly, possessively.

I froze completely, my brain short-circuiting.

What… what was he doing?

"Compared to," Sebastian drawled, turning his head slightly to look directly at Emily, his voice laced with a lazy, cutting edge, "things that are fake, built with silicone and a surgeon's knife,"

His gaze deliberately, insultingly, swept over Emily's perfectly sculpted, almost unnaturally prominent bust.

"Personally," he finished smoothly, "I find I much prefer things that are all-natural."

The smile instantly froze on Emily's face. Her eyes turned to ice chips.

I saw her fingers, the ones holding the tablet, clench violently.

Her knuckles turned white.

Her perfectly manicured nails scraped against the smooth screen—

Crack!

An almost inaudible, yet distinctly ominous, cracking sound reached my ears.

My eyes widened slightly as I caught a glimpse – five faint, perfectly parallel hairline fractures had suddenly appeared across the surface of the tablet's supposedly tough screen!

Like it had been clawed by something incredibly sharp!

Her fingernails did that?

A shiver went down my spine.

This woman… was not normal.

Emily quickly masked her reaction, taking a deep breath, her professional smile snapping back into place, though it looked brittle now.

"Understood, Boss."

She inclined her head stiffly, taking a step back.

"I'll attend to my work now."

Without another glance, she turned sharply, her stiletto heels clicking angrily as she disappeared down a hallway.

Only then did Sebastian release me, stepping back as if the brief, charged embrace had never happened.

He glanced down at the mess on his suit jacket with a frown.

"John, show her to her room."

He tossed the order over his shoulder and strode off in the opposite direction, leaving me standing there with a slightly bewildered Old John.

I looked down at myself.

The spot where his arm had been around my waist still felt strangely warm.

My insides felt like a tangled mess.

The next few days were a blur of what I mentally dubbed 'hellish girlfriend boot camp'.

My instructor? None other than the hostile secretary, Emily.

Our usual training ground was the mansion's enormous dining room, a space easily large enough to host a ball.

"Head up! Shoulders back! Stomach in!"

Emily's sharp commands felt like whips cracking around my ears.

"Keep your elbows tucked! Forks and knives are used from the outside in!"

"No slurping your soup!"

"Caviar is savored with a mother-of-pearl spoon, let it dissolve on your tongue, don't chew it like rice!"

I felt like a clumsy marionette tangled in its own strings, jerked this way and that by her relentless instructions.

Growing up scrubbing floors and peeling potatoes hadn't exactly prepared me for the ridiculously complicated etiquette of the filthy rich.

The results were predictable. Disastrous.

Splat!

I knocked over a tiny, precious dish of glistening black caviar, sending the expensive little eggs scattering across the polished table like buckshot.

CRASH!

I bumped into a towering pyramid of champagne flutes stacked nearby, sending crystal shattering and golden liquid cascading everywhere.

Clang—WHOOSH!

In a desperate attempt to cut a piece of suspiciously tough steak, I applied too much pressure. The steak knife slipped from my grasp, flew through the air, spinning end over end, heading directly towards the gigantic, priceless crystal chandelier hanging overhead!

"Ah!" I shrieked, covering my face.

Emily gasped, her composure finally cracking.

Old John cried out, starting to move forward.

In that split second before disaster struck—

A black shadow blurred past!

Almost too fast to see!

My eyes barely registered the movement.

Sebastian was suddenly there, appearing out of nowhere!

He hadn't even been in the room a second ago!

He still wore casual clothes, not a suit!

One hand slammed down on the dining table for leverage, his body leaning forward at an impossible angle. His other hand shot up, fast as lightning, and plucked the spinning, gleaming knife right out of the air!

His fingers closed around the handle just centimeters from the wickedly sharp blade!

Time seemed to freeze.

The dining room fell into shocked silence.

Emily stood with her mouth hanging open, forgetting to close it.

Old John halted mid-step, a complex expression on his face.

And me…

My forward momentum carried me stumbling towards him.

Before I could stop myself, I crashed right into his chest.

My cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his shirt.

We were suddenly, incredibly close.

Nose to nose, practically.

I could see the individual dark lashes framing his intense eyes.

Those eyes were staring down at me, filled with something complex, swirling, something I couldn't decipher.

His breathing, I realized with a jolt, seemed to hitch for a fraction of a second.

It was almost imperceptible, but I felt it.

The air between us crackled with a strange, unspoken, incredibly awkward tension.

My traitorous heart started pounding violently, a frantic rhythm against my ribs, threatening to leap out.

I could feel the warmth radiating from his body, smell that unique blend of cedarwood and faint smoke clinging to him.

He didn't push me away immediately.

We stayed like that, frozen in that intensely close, awkward pose, just staring at each other.

One second, two seconds, three…

It felt like an eternity.

Then, I saw his throat move as he swallowed. He finally broke the silence, his voice a little rough, edged with something that sounded almost like… embarrassment?

"...Your mascara," he averted his gaze, his eyes flicking down to just below my eyes, "is smudged."

Me: "..."

I automatically raised a hand to my face.

My fingertips came away stained with black.

Right. From almost crying earlier out of sheer stress, making my cheap mascara run.

Could I be any more mortifying?

He straightened up abruptly, releasing the knife. He tossed it carelessly onto the table, where it landed with a loud, jarring CLANG.

"It seems," he glanced around at the chaotic mess of spilled food and broken glass, his usual mocking tone back in full force, "that Cinderella's magic only works on pumpkins and mice."

"Clearly," he added dryly, "it doesn't extend to tableware."

Without another look at me, or acknowledging Emily or John, he turned and strode out of the dining room again.

Leaving me standing alone amidst the wreckage, my face burning, my heart racing like a runaway train.

Did he… did he seem flustered just now?

Or was I just projecting my own chaos onto him?

Late that night.

Finally free from the torture of etiquette lessons, I soaked myself in the ridiculously large jacuzzi tub in my assigned bathroom.

Warm water enveloped my aching body, and the tension from the day slowly began to seep away.

Steam filled the air, clouding the mirrors.

I closed my eyes, trying desperately to empty my mind.

But images from the day kept replaying: Sebastian's lightning-fast reflexes catching the knife… the sudden hitch in his breath when I was close… that weirdly specific comment about my smudged mascara…

It was all just so… strange.

I shook my head, trying to clear it.

That's when I felt it.

Something was wrong.

The water…

The water in the tub felt… like it was moving in a weird way?

I opened my eyes and looked down.

My breath caught in my throat.

The water wasn't just lying still against my skin like normal water should.

It… it seemed almost alive, slowly, automatically… avoiding contact with my skin!

Tiny, swirling whirlpools were forming all around my body!

Droplets of water danced on my arms like mischievous sprites, but didn't actually seem to wet the surface.

What was happening?!

Was I hallucinating?

I blinked hard, staring intently.

It didn't change!

The water was still flowing in patterns that defied physics, swirling and eddying around me!

Panic, cold and sharp, surged through my heart like an icy tide!

This was too weird! Too impossible!

I let out a choked gasp, my body instinctively recoiling in fear. I slipped, losing my balance, and plunged completely under the water!

Oh god, I can't swim!

But the expected choking, the desperate need for air, never came.

Water rushed into my nose and mouth, yet… I could still breathe!

Perfectly!

Just like I was breathing air on land!

The water felt gentle, enveloping me without pressure.

I could feel the strange sensation of liquid moving in and out of my lungs, but it wasn't drowning me!

What… what in the actual hell was going on?!

My eyes flew wide underwater, staring up at the blurry, wavering light fixtures above.

Could it be…? Am I… not entirely human?

Suddenly, I remembered Grandmother's seashell necklace.

Glowing faintly in the stormy night…

And that strange puddle by my feet in the elevator… shimmering like… saltwater…

Could it be…?

While I was submerged, lost in a vortex of shock and rising terror—

Outside the bathroom door.

Sebastian, who had been about to raise his hand to knock, suddenly froze.

His expression changed drastically.

He felt it – a surge of immense, unsettling power radiating from within the room.

A sharp, unexpected pain lanced through his chest, making him gasp and take a staggering step back.

His dark eyes narrowed, pupils contracting violently.

That… that energy… it was back!

Stronger, clearer than ever before!

And the source… was behind this door!

Her?!

That clumsy, seemingly harmless woman?!

He stared intently at the closed bathroom door, his expression unreadable, a mixture of intense curiosity and… something else, something deep down that felt almost like wariness.

Inside the bathroom.

Still reeling, I slowly pushed myself up, breaking the surface of the water.

Droplets streamed down my hair and face.

My gaze automatically drifted towards the large, steam-kissed mirror on the wall.

It reflected my pale, dripping face.

And…

My eyes locked onto the reflection. My blood ran cold.

There… in the mirror…

On my neck, just below my ears, on both sides…

Faintly visible against my skin…

Were several… small…

Shimmering…

Scales?!