The final task of the day was written in graceful ink:
“Report to Master Veylor. Alone.”
Her hands trembled as she read it.
The grand doors opened with a slow creak.
Inside, the chamber was dim, lit only by the soft flicker of candlelight and Master Veylor’s gaze — calm, commanding, impossible to read.
He didn’t speak at first. Only watched her step closer… and closer still.
Then finally, a whisper: “Now… show me how grateful you truly are, little secretary.”
What followed was no longer work.
It was obedience.
It was surrender.