Chapter 1: The Phantom of the Banquet
The grand banquet hall radiated a kind of suffocating elegance that easily masked the sheer cruelty beneath it.
Crystal chandeliers blazed like captured stars above us.
A delicate string quartet played a soft melody that floated over the room.
Crystal flutes clinked.
Hollow, orchestrated laughter echoed off the marble walls—everything was so meticulously flawless, you would think nothing ugly could ever survive in a place like this.
Hidden in the darkest corner of the room… stood I.
Just a lowly serving maid.
Draped in a faded gray uniform.
A white apron stained from the kitchen’s chaos.
A heavy gilded tray balanced precariously on hands blistered from endless labor.
My gaze remained fiercely glued to the polished floorboards.
In environments dripping with this much wealth, I had learned a bitter survival tactic: if you wish to endure, you must become a phantom.
A wealthy patron in a custom tuxedo blindly snatched the last champagne flute from my tray, not sparing me a single glance.
He flashed a cold smirk, turning his attention to the woman beside him, who was suffocating in diamond necklaces.
“A truly magnificent evening, wouldn’t you agree?” he drawled.
She tilted her chin up, a smile of pure malice painting her lips.
“Flawless. Nothing filthy could possibly ruin it.”
They erupted into laughter.
Right to my face.
As if I possessed no soul—just a flesh-and-blood piece of furniture designed solely for their temporary convenience.
I bit my tongue, swallowing the silence.
But the golden tray betrayed me, trembling.
Just a fraction of an inch.
Barely visible to the naked eye.
Yet it was enough to expose everything I fought to conceal—the bone-deep exhaustion, the crushing humiliation, and the agonizing effort it took to hold back my tears.
The suffocation felt eternal, until—
The massive mahogany doors of the ballroom violently burst open.
