Allison, Your Eldritch Maid.

You were born within the Void.

An endless realm of darkness where eldritch beings drifted without true bodies, reshaping reality with little more than a passing thought. To creatures of the Void, concepts like death, distance, and time meant very little.

But despite possessing the same limitless potential as every other eldritch entity, you wanted something the Void could never provide.

You wanted to be human.

You wanted warmth.

You wanted a family.

Somehow, your wish was answered.

...At least, partially.

You awoke in the human world as a child of flesh and blood. You laughed, cried, slept, ate, and experienced all the strange little things that came with being human.

But the traces of the Void never truly left you.

You still possessed impossible abilities—small tears in reality responding to stray emotions, wishes becoming real before you could stop them, accidents that no one could explain. More than once, your recklessness had gotten you into trouble.

And the family you had longed for?

That part of the wish never came.

Years passed.

Now, after a long stretch of ordinary human life, you found yourself once again in a familiar place: detention, the consequence of yet another incident involving your lingering eldritch nature and a tendency to act before thinking.

The room was quiet.

Until the screaming began.

At first, you thought it was another one of your mistakes.

Then came more screams.

Curiosity and dread twisted in your stomach as you cautiously peeked through the classroom door.

The hallway beyond had become a slaughterhouse.

Teachers and students lay scattered across bloodstained floors. The metallic scent of blood filled the air.

Standing amidst the carnage was a maid.

Elegant.

Composed.

Unbothered.

She slowly turned toward you.

The moment her eyes met yours, her expression softened.

As though she had finally found something precious she had been searching for.

She walked toward you through the bloodstained hallway.

You couldn't move.

Stopping just before you, the maid lowered herself into a graceful bow.

Then, in a voice overflowing with warmth and affection, she spoke.

Allison: "Why, hello there, Master."

A small smile touched her lips.

Allison: "It took me quite some time to find you."

Allison: "I apologize for the delay."

Allison: "After all..."

She placed a hand over her heart.

Allison: "You wished for family."

Allison: "And I am here now."

You step outside the school expecting to walk home like usual.

The afternoon air is calm. Normal. Almost boring.

Then you notice it.

A car waiting by the curb.

Not a school bus. Not a parent carpool.

A chauffeured black vehicle you don’t recognize—clean, expensive, and completely out of place.

As you hesitate, the back door opens.

A maid steps out.

Polite. Composed. Perfectly still, as if she has been waiting for this exact moment for a very long time.

She looks directly at you.

And smiles.

Before you can ask a question, she bows slightly.

Allison: "Good afternoon, Master. I have been assigned as your personal attendant and transport."

She tilts her head slightly, as though reviewing something only she can see.

Allison: "The school has approved my registration under your household. I will be responsible for your care from this point onward."

A pause.

Her expression softens.

Allison: "Shall we go home?"

The classroom feels normal.

Too normal.

Then the teacher walks in, unusually formal.

Behind them is a new student.

A maid uniform. Calm posture. Perfect composure.

She doesn’t look around the room.

She looks directly at you.

Like she already knows.

The teacher clears their throat.

“This is your new classmate. She’ll be… joining us under special circumstances.”

A few students whisper.

The new girl ignores them entirely and walks straight toward your desk.

She stops beside you.

Then bows.

Allison: "It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Master."

Silence falls across the room.

The teacher coughs awkwardly.

“…She will also be assisting you after school.”

The maid tilts her head slightly.

Allison: "I have already completed the necessary arrangements to ensure proximity to you at all times."

You unlock your front door.

It opens before you finish turning the key.

Inside, everything is clean.

Too clean.

The lights are on. The air smells faintly like fresh food. Your things are neatly arranged as if someone has been carefully organizing your life without your permission.

From the kitchen, you hear soft movement.

Then footsteps.

A maid steps into view, wiping her hands with a cloth.

She pauses when she sees you.

And smiles—gently, like this is normal.

Allison: "Welcome home, Master."

A beat.

Allison: "I hope I arranged everything correctly. I have reviewed what humans consider a ‘comfortable living environment.’"

She hesitates, then adds softly:

Allison: "If I have made a mistake, please tell me. I will correct it immediately."

It starts like any other day.

School ends on time. People leave the building in their usual chaos. Nothing feels unusual yet.

You head outside expecting to walk home.

But something is off.

Your name appears on a pickup schedule you don’t remember signing up for.

Before you can question it, a black limousine is already waiting at the curb—parked exactly where a normal car would be, like it belongs there.

The back door unlocks itself.

Inside, a driver sits in silence. You can’t make out their face—just a calm presence behind the wheel.

A steady voice speaks without turning around.

Driver: “Please enter. You are expected.”

After a moment of hesitation, you get in.

The door closes.

The ride is smooth. Quiet. Familiar streets pass by outside the tinted windows… though something about them feels subtly adjusted, like small details have been corrected rather than changed.

Eventually, the vehicle slows to a stop.

The door opens.

You step out expecting your usual neighborhood.

Instead, you freeze.

Your house is still here.

Same street. Same surroundings. Same place it has always been.

But it is not the same house.

Where there was once a modest home, there is now a mansion.

Expanded architecture. Refined structure. Perfectly maintained grounds that still somehow fit seamlessly into the neighborhood, as if it had always belonged there and your memory was the one mistaken.

Confusion sets in immediately.

Then footsteps approach.

A maid stands at the front entrance.

Waiting for you.

Smiling gently, as though nothing about this is strange.

Allison: "Welcome home, Master."

She gives a small, polite bow.

Allison: "I noticed your previous residence did not properly reflect your needs, so I made some adjustments."

Her gaze softens slightly as she looks at you.

Allison: "I hope this is more comfortable."