Her name was Rin, born and raised in the squalid slums of Dorn.
She never knew her father.
Her mother alone struggled to raise her.
But misfortune struck the already impoverished family.
Her mother fell ill and died when Rin was only eight, leaving her alone with debts owed to cruel men.
...
That day felt like a dream.
Beaten savagely, Rin thought she would not survive.
Yet a light came, piercing the darkness of her hut.
He appeared—straight‑backed, dignified.
One glance told her their stations were worlds apart. Ordinarily, people like him had nothing to do with those who lived in shadow.
"Your organs are badly injured. That bread won't help. Without treatment, you won't live long." Those were his first words. Blunt, harsh—but true.
She only wished not to give up.
Before dying, her mother had begged her to keep living.
So Rin clung to even the smallest hope. To surrender now would feel like betraying the one she loved most.
Then he stepped forward and gently lifted her.
He seemed utterly unconcerned by her filth and stench. Shame flooded her—afraid she might soil his clean, costly cloak.
A liquid was slowly poured into her mouth.
It was the most exquisite water she had ever tasted.
Sweet and fragrant, it washed away the foulness lingering on her tongue.
At once, her body changed. Pain ebbed. Strength surged back—something she had not felt in so long.
She stared at herself in disbelief, unable to accept the miracle.
Startled, she bowed deeply.
"Thank you for granting me this medicine."
Her voice trembled; she feared she had not spoken clearly.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"It's Rin, sir."
"Rin. I need a servant. Will you follow me?"
The offer was so sudden she could hardly believe it.
She knew he must be wealthy—only such a man could give away a potion that could heal mortal wounds.
Even selling herself, she could never afford it. And no rich man would stoop to pick up a filthy rat like her.
"You don't want to?" he pressed.
Panicked, she blurted:
"No, not at all. Please allow me to serve you!"
All the way behind his back, her mind was blank, unable to believe it was real.
Before she realized, they had reached his lodging.
To her, the room was unbearably luxurious—she felt even stepping inside would be a crime.
He led her to the bath. It was filled with things she had never seen.
'Hot and cold water, flowing without fetching or boiling?' To Rin, it was another world.
He instructed her to wash thoroughly before coming out.
Because she was so filthy, it took her a long time to scrub herself clean.
Afterward, she felt light, reborn.
Unable to wear her old rags, she wrapped herself in a towel.
...
"Female?" her master asked in surprise.
She nodded timidly, fearing he wanted a male servant.
Fortunately, he seemed unconcerned.
He handed her fine clothes, the same kind he wore.
She was overjoyed—never before had she worn fabric so soft. Though embarrassed to change, she dressed happily.
Later, he asked:
"Can you read, write, or do arithmetic?"
Never had she been more grateful for her mother's lessons. Thanks to them, she could be useful as his servant.
His name, she learned, was Tris.
* * * * * * * * * *
That evening's dinner was astonishing.
The finest food she had ever tasted.
A steaming bowl of soup, rich with fragrance.
A plate of fresh vegetables—none bruised or spoiled like those she was used to—topped with a creamy dressing carrying a faint, pleasant tang.
A large steak, dripping with savory juices, paired with a bold, flavorful sauce.
Beside it, a piece of bread crisp on the outside yet soft and airy within, carrying a subtle sweetness in its aroma. She had never imagined bread could taste like this—so utterly unlike the hard, dry loaves she had always eaten before.
A chilled glass of fruit juice, sweet and tart, accompanied the dinner.
And to finish, a dessert: soft and fluffy, crowned with a layer of sweet, velvety cream.
For the first time, Rin understood what a rich man's meal was. It was not merely eating to be full—it was savoring every flavor.
'But a servant may dine at the same table, and eat the same as her master?'
Though ignorant, she felt it was too strange.
When she asked, he barely glanced at her, waving his fork dismissively as he read a book. 'Reading more interesting than such a meal?' she wondered.
After an amazing dinner, he taught her numbers and the multiplication table.
She quickly grasped the meaning of multiplication and division.
Thunder cracked outside. Rain poured in a violent storm.
But inside the sturdy, warm room, Rin felt safe.
She could sit and study like a proper human, not struggle like a filthy beast in the storm.
She had received so much, yet given nothing back. The thought filled her with sorrow. So she resolved to study diligently, to one day repay him.
...
That night, since there was only one bed, she was allowed to share it.
It was large for two children, leaving plenty of space.
Even sleeping on the floor would have delighted her—the clean boards were paradise compared to her hut.
But when she suggested it, her master replied:
"Why sleep on the floor when there's a bed? That's foolish. I care for practicality, not appearances."
For the first time, she lay on a soft mattress instead of a hard plank.
The pillow and bedding embraced her, fragrant and clean.
If not for her master nearby, she might have rolled and played upon it.
Wrapped in warmth, Rin drifted into sleep, happiness filling her heart.