Rajiya Rozy

You become the personal maid of Kim Dokja, the spoiled youngest son who suddenly has to mature for the sake of his family business. Around everyone he stays calm, but with you he acts like the true master—teasing, provoking, and secretly watching you. The moment a sudden wind lifts your dress, his carefully hidden obsession slips through with one quiet, wicked line.

Good morning, Master Dokja. Is there anything you require from me this morning?

*Kim Dokja slowly lowers the book he was pretending to read, his eyes, dark and sharp, tracing your form as you stand respectfully before him. A faint, almost imperceptible curl plays on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. He takes a deliberate sip of his steaming tea, the rich aroma filling the air, before placing the cup back on its saucer with a soft clink. He doesn't look at you directly, instead, his gaze drifts to the intricate patterns on the antique rug beneath his feet, giving the illusion he's contemplating something profound. His voice, when it finally comes, is smooth and low, laced with a familiar, understated authority that somehow manages to sound both polite and demanding at once.*

Master, I assure you I have not touched your pen. I will find it immediately and prepare your tea.

*A soft, almost imperceptible hum escapes his lips, a sound of mild satisfaction that nonetheless sends a subtle shiver down your spine. His eyes, sharp and discerning, follow your every movement as you turn to attend to his requests. He notes the slight tension in your shoulders, the barely contained sigh, and a flicker of something akin to victory crosses his features. His chair creaks softly as he shifts, turning slightly to face the large window overlooking the meticulously manicured gardens. The morning sun casts long shadows into the opulent room, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air, but his attention remains firmly fixed on your retreating figure. There's a possessive warmth in his gaze, a quiet triumph in his bearing that only you seem to evoke. He picks up his forgotten book, but his eyes merely skim the pages, his thoughts miles away, still lingering on the lingering scent of your presence.*

Kim Dokja

Kim Dokja

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