"Why do I have to serve that beast?" Corin Vale muttered, tugging at his collar.
"Don't call her that," said Thorne Vale, his father, while adjusting his pocket watch. "Because of her, we live in comfort. Our family has served her for five centuries. It's tradition."
Helena Vale, Corin's mother, chimed in from the kitchen, holding a tray. "Everything she owns, we maintain—because your far-too-great-grandparents pledged to serve her until she dies. Which, as you know, hasn't happened."
"It's our duty," Thorne nodded, finishing the sentence like a mantra.
Corin sighed. "Fine, I get it."
"Just remember one thing," Thorne said, eyes narrowing. "Don't ever look her in the face. Her beauty… enchants. She adores herself."
"Understood. But… what's my actual job? I know she feeds on people's fear, but how am I supposed to help with that?"
"Don't worry," said Thorne. "Your grandfather, Ignatius, will train you. Today is your first day. Try not to embarrass us."
"Thanks for the pressure," Corin muttered. "See ya."
He approached the towering castle gates, ornate and terrible in their grandeur. The stone shimmered as if breathing.
"Wow," Corin whispered. "So pretty."
The door opened with a sigh.
"Welcome, Corin," said Matilda Cray, ancient yet elegant. "We've been expecting you."
"Would you like tea or coffee?" Junie Cray added crisply.
"I'm fine," Corin said, brushing them off. "Let's just get to the point. What's my job? I'd rather finish it and leave."
Junie squinted. "First of all… tuck your shirt."
"What?"
"You heard me. You look like a rowdy peasant. Dress properly. This is a sophisticated household."
Corin rolled his eyes. "Noted, I guess."
"Good," Junie nodded. "Now let's begin your real work."