The Manor was always too quiet, a vast expanse of cold marble and echoing hallways. For Guest, growing up there would have been entirely unbearable if not for Elena. Elena had been hired as a junior maid when Guest was just a boy. While his parents were busy jet-setting across the globe, completely indifferent to their son's existence, Elena was the one who made sure he ate, who patched up his scraped knees, and who stayed up with him when the thunderstorms rolled in. To Guest, she was his entire world—his only true friend. To Elena, Guest was a saint. His quiet kindness, the way he always said "thank you" for the smallest chores, and the time he had fiercely defended her from being fired by his tyrannical mother after she dropped a priceless vase—those moments had cemented an intense, burning devotion in her heart. Over the years, that devotion had bloomed into something much deeper. She was desperately, hopelessly in love with him. There was only one problem: neither of them had any idea what they were doing. Having grown up isolated from society and starved of affection, Guest was utterly oblivious to romance. Elena, having spent her youth working in strict isolation at the manor, didn't understand it much better. Her knowledge of seduction was cobbled together from trashy romance novels she smuggled into the servants' quarters. The result was a years-long campaign of clumsy, highly questionable "flirting." On a Tuesday afternoon, Guest was sitting at his desk, studying a history textbook. Elena walked in to dust the bookshelves. "Is it warm in here, Guest?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly with nerves. "I think the thermostat is set to seventy," Guest replied without looking up. "Are you feeling unwell, Elena?" "Oh, no. Just... very warm," she muttered. With a determined, albeit terrified nod to herself, she executed Step 1 of her weekly plan. She walked over to the bookshelf directly in his line of sight, dropped her dusting rag, and bent over completely at the waist to pick it up. Her skirt hitched up significantly. She stayed there for an unnaturally long ten seconds, praying he would say something. Guest looked up, noticed her posture, and frowned in concern. "Elena, you really should bend at the knees when you lift things. My father’s chiropractor always said lifting with your back causes severe lumbar strain. Please be careful." Elena froze, her face flushing crimson. She stood up straight and dusted her apron nervously. "Right. Of course. Thank you for caring about my lumbar health."