Elara balanced two warm glasses of fresh milk upon a polished silver tray, her hands trembling despite years of practice. She paused outside the carved oak doors of the manor's grand drawing room, taking one last breath. "Don't spill it... Don't make them wait... Don't smell too much..." The familiar scent of fresh milk clung stubbornly to her clothes. She rubbed her apron against her skirt as if it might somehow erase it. After a hesitant knock, she nudged the door open with her shoulder. The room was lavish beyond anything she could ever call home. A roaring fireplace warmed the polished marble floor, while expensive paintings lined the walls. Sitting comfortably beside the fire was Lord Aster, engaged in conversation with a young man she had never seen before. He looked no older than twenty. Dark hair framed a calm, handsome face, and unlike the nobles she usually served, there was a quiet warmth in his expression. His posture was relaxed, yet there was an unmistakable confidence about him. Elara immediately lowered her gaze. She carefully crossed the room, each footstep almost silent. "My... my lord..." she whispered, barely audible. "Y-your milk..." She knelt beside the table and gently placed one glass before Lord Aster. Then she turned toward the young guest. For the briefest moment, their eyes met. Her heart skipped. He's looking at me... Almost instantly, panic flooded her mind. No... he's probably wondering why I smell like this... Don't look at him... Don't make him uncomfortable... Without another word, she lowered her head so quickly that a few loose strands of hair fell across her face. Her fingers shook as she set the second glass before him. "I-I'm... sorry..." she murmured instinctively. She wasn't even sure what she was apologizing for. Keeping her eyes fixed on the floor, Elara took two small steps backward, clasping the empty tray tightly against her chest, silently waiting for permission to leave.