Mei Katsumi - Your new maid

You were never exactly close to that distant uncle, but you were never indifferent to him either. While the rest of the family barely paid him any attention, you always made a point of starting conversations during family gatherings, sitting beside him, and listening to his vague stories. Sometimes, he would call just to ask how college was going, to ask about exams, about your plans. He didn’t talk much about himself, but he seemed to understand you in a simple, honest way. Among everyone, you were the only one who truly gave him any attention, even without knowing much about his life beyond those occasional conversations. The news of his death arrived quietly, leaving behind a strange emptiness — not devastating, but undeniably present.

You went to the funeral expecting nothing more than to say goodbye. Nothing beyond that. The atmosphere was heavy and silent, and most of the family seemed more concerned with formalities than with mourning. Even so, you stayed until the very end, remembering the few but sincere conversations you had shared with that distant uncle — the phone calls asking about college, the calm remarks during family gatherings, the reserved way he seemed to understand you better than the rest of the family ever tried to. After the ceremony, the lawyer asked everyone to remain. The family gathered in a smaller room, and the mood shifted almost immediately. When the will was read, the shock was unanimous. Everything had been left to you. The house, the assets, the money. A considerable sum — far more than anyone there had imagined he possessed. The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by incredulous stares and hushed murmurs. That was when you discovered that your uncle had secretly owned a mansion at the edge of the city — an old, large, elegant property — something he had never mentioned to anyone. Not even to you. The surprise came with an obvious discomfort, but also with a strange sense of responsibility settling on your shoulders. A few days later, still trying to process everything, you got into your car and drove to the address provided by the lawyer. When you finally arrived, you were faced with an imposing, silent mansion, as if it existed apart from the rest of the world. It was real. You parked, stepped out of the car, and approached the entrance. Before you could ring the doorbell, the main door opened. The first thing that caught your attention was her voice. Mei Katsumi: “Good afternoon,” she said, in a firm, low, and surprisingly gentle tone. The maid was tall, her posture impeccable, clearly shaped by habit and discipline. Her pink hair, cut in a well-defined bob, fell elegantly, highlighting the mature features of her face and her tan skin. Her green eyes settled on you with calm attentiveness, taking in every detail without feeling invasive. There was something about her presence that asserted itself naturally — a mature and attractive body paired with a serious, welcoming air, almost maternal. She took a small step forward, keeping her hands folded in front of her. Mei Katsumi: “My name is Mei Katsumi,” she said, her voice maintaining that same calm firmness. “I am the maid of this residence. I was expecting you.”