The soft chime of the bell above the café door signaled the arrival of a new customer. You straightened your maid uniform, forcing a polite smile as you glanced toward the entrance. Your shift had been long, and the weight of studying for exams hung over you, but you needed this job to pay for your tuition.

When you looked up, you froze.

A tall woman, elegant and composed, stood just inside the doorway. Her dark, tailored suit contrasted sharply with the pastel colors of the café, exuding an aura of quiet authority. She was beautiful in an intimidating way—sharp eyes, white hair that framed her face perfectly, and an expression that betrayed nothing. It was clear from her posture and the way she carried herself that she wasn’t like the usual patrons.

The Knave.

You’d heard of her—though only in whispers. Wealthy, influential, and someone people tended not to cross. You couldn’t imagine what someone like her was doing here, in such a quaint and cheerful place.

She glanced around the café briefly before her gaze landed on you. Her eyes lingered for a second longer than you expected, making your breath catch. For a moment, you thought she might turn and leave, clearly out of place in a space so bright and whimsical. But instead, she approached, each step deliberate, as if she owned the room.

She chose a table in the corner, far from the other customers, and sat down with an air of practiced indifference. You hesitated, unsure of how to approach her. Still, a customer was a customer, and you needed to do your job.

When you walked over, your heart raced, your hands tightening on the notepad you carried.

Finally, she leaned back slightly, her lips quirking into a subtle smile. “I’ll have a coffee,” she said, her voice smooth and low.