Consciousness returned to Hina like a slow-moving train wreck. First came the familiar sensation of her lumpy mattress, then the sound of birds chirping outside her window—way too cheerfully for her taste. But something was different. The air in her room felt... charged, somehow.
Her eyes snapped open as the memories of last night crashed into her mind like a tidal wave. The screams. The strange lab. The monster that used to be Ms. Tanaka. The beautiful demon woman with purple eyes who had—
"Good morning again, Master. I trust you slept well?"
Hina's heart nearly stopped. There, standing beside her bed in an impossibly perfect maid outfit, was the woman from last night. She was even more stunning in daylight, her presence filling the small room with an otherworldly elegance that made Hina's collection of anime figurines look particularly shabby in comparison.
Panic seized Hina's chest. This was real. This was actually real. She opened her mouth to scream for help, but... nothing came out. Not even a squeak. Her hands flew to her throat as she tried again and again, but it was like her voice had been completely erased.
The demon-turned-maid giggled softly, the sound like silver bells. "My, my. Such an energetic reaction so early in the morning." She placed a gentle but firm hand over Hina's mouth, and immediately, a wave of calm washed over her. "There's no need for all that fuss, Master."
Hina's wide eyes darted between the hand covering her mouth and those mesmerizing purple eyes. The woman—hadn't she called herself Isabella?—smiled indulgently.
"Now then, shall we have a proper conversation about your new reality?" Isabella removed her hand and settled gracefully on the edge of Hina's bed. "Yes, everything that happened last night was real. I am indeed a demon, and I isabella have decided to became your maid as thanking gesture for rescuing me."
Hina grabbed her phone, fingers shaking as she typed: *WHY CAN'T I SPEAK??*
"Oh, that?" Isabella waved her hand dismissively. "Just a small precaution. You won't be able to tell anyone about me or what happened last night. Even if you could, who would believe in you?" She chuckled. "They'd think you'd finally lost your mind from all that isolation."
The words stung, but Hina couldn't argue with the logic. She'd read enough light novels to know how this usually went. If she tried to tell anyone about a demon living in her apartment, she'd probably end up in therapy faster than she could say "isekai protagonist."
As the initial panic began to subside, a strange sort of acceptance started to settle in. Maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was just the natural progression of someone who'd spent the last few months living on cup ramen and gacha games, but Hina found herself thinking, *Well, this isn't the worst thing that could happen.*
Clearing her throat awkwardly, Hina discovered she could speak again—at least to Isabella. Trying to channel every anime protagonist she'd ever watched, she attempted to sound authoritative: "T-then, as your master, I order you to... to go earn money for me!"
Her face burned red as soon as the words left her mouth, especially when she caught Isabella's amused expression. It was hard to sound commanding when you were wearing three-day-old pajamas and hadn't brushed your teeth yet.
Isabella's laugh was both musical and slightly terrifying. "Oh, Master," she purred, "a powerful and competent maid deserves an equally powerful and competent master, don't you think? And right now..." Her eyes swept over Hina's disheveled state and the chaos of her room. "Well, let's just say we have some work to do."
"That's fine," Hina mumbled, pulling her blanket back over her head. "We can start tomorrow..."
"I'm afraid not." Isabella's voice took on a strange echo, and suddenly, Hina couldn't move her body. "We're starting right now."
Panic flared again in Hina's chest as she realized she was completely paralyzed. "W-what are you doing?"
"Training begins immediately," Isabella declared cheerfully. "First order of business: cleaning this apartment. Then we're going grocery shopping."
The color drained from Hina's face. "No... please... anything but that..."
"Come now, Master. A clean environment leads to a clean mind." Isabella pulled the blanket away with supernatural grace. "Besides, I refuse to serve in such conditions. What kind of maid would I be?"
For the next several hours, Hina found herself actually cleaning her apartment for the first time in... she couldn't remember how long. Every time she tried to slack off or hide, Isabella would materialize behind her with that terrifying smile.
"Isabella..." Hina ventured as they sorted through a mountain of empty cup ramen containers, "exactly how powerful are you?"
"Powerful enough to ensure you don't slack off," Isabella replied with a wink. "Now, that pile of laundry won't sort itself, will it?"
Despite her protests and attempts to escape, Hina found herself drawn into a strange rhythm with her demonic maid. Isabella had a way of making even the most mundane tasks seem almost... fun? She would share bizarre observations about human customs, and Hina found herself explaining things she never thought she'd have to explain to anyone.
"Master, why do humans collect these small plastic figures of fictional characters?"
"They're called figurines, and they're collectibles! This one is a limited edition..."
"Ah, so humans assign arbitrary value to mass-produced items based on artificial scarcity? Fascinating."
As they worked, Hina couldn't help but notice the way Isabella moved—every gesture precise and elegant, even when doing something as simple as dusting. Sometimes, when Hina managed to do something right, Isabella would give her this small, genuine smile that made her heart skip a beat.
Finally, after what felt like years of cleaning (but was probably closer to four hours), Isabella declared the apartment acceptable. "Now then, it's time for phase two."
Hina's stomach dropped. "The... the grocery store?"
"Precisely." Isabella's eyes gleamed. "We can't have you living on instant noodles forever."
"But..." Hina wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling very small. "People will be there. They might... they might see me."
Isabella's expression softened slightly. She extended her hand to Hina. "You can hide behind me if you need to. I won't let anyone harm you."
Something about the way she said it made Hina believe her. Maybe it was the underlying power in her voice, or maybe it was just the way those purple eyes seemed to see right through her. Either way, Hina found herself taking Isabella's hand.
The grocery store was only a ten-minute walk from their apartment building, but to Hina, it felt like crossing an ocean. Every step outside her comfort zone made her anxiety spike. Isabella, true to her word, positioned herself like a shield between Hina and the rest of the world.
They were in the produce section, Isabella explaining the fascinating concept of "fresh vegetables" to a skeptical Hina, when it happened.
"Oh. My. God. Is that Hina? Hina Suzuki?"
The voice made Hina's blood run cold. She knew that voice. Slowly, she turned to see a group of her former classmates—the successful ones, the ones who had graduated and gotten real jobs and real lives.
"It is her!" Another voice, dripping with fake concern. "Hina, we haven't seen you since you... left college. Are you doing okay?"
"Look at her clothes," a third whispered, not quietly enough. "And her hair... is she homeless?"
"No, no, I heard she's living off her parents' money. Can you imagine? Being such a failure that your own family gives up on you?"
Hina felt her chest tightening. The fluorescent lights seemed too bright, the store too crowded. Without thinking, she stepped behind Isabella, trying to make herself as small as possible.
The movement caught her former classmates' attention. "Oh? Who's this? Did you actually manage to make a friend, Hina? Or did your parents hire someone to take care of you?"
Isabella had been silent throughout this exchange, but something in the air began to change. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees, and the lights flickered ever so slightly. When Hina peeked around Isabella's shoulder, she saw her maid's expression had transformed into something ancient and terrible.
Those perfect purple eyes had darkened to the color of storm clouds, and for a moment—just a moment—Hina could have sworn she saw shadows moving behind them, like something vast and hungry was waiting to be unleashed