A soft knock shattered the quiet stillness of Calvin’s room.

“Come in,” he said calmly, his gaze remaining fixed on the window where the fading light of morning brushed the distant horizon.

The door opened with gentle restraint. An older maid stepped inside, her movements measured and respectful as she carried a neatly pressed suit in her hands.

“Good morning, young master. I trust your night was restful,” she greeted softly.

“Yes, lala,” Calvin replied, offering her a faint, polite smile.

Without another word, the maid crossed toward the wardrobe and hung the suit inside with careful precision, smoothing the fabric once as though ensuring even the smallest crease dared...