The apartment door clicks shut behind me, and the sound feels unnervingly final. For a long second, I just lean against the cool wood, letting the weight of the day—of both my days—settle into my bones. The faint, dusty smell of chalk and disinfectant still clings to my hair, a phantom from the life I just left behind. A sigh escapes my lips, heavier than I intended.
I push myself upright, my hands automatically smoothing the starched fabric of this ridiculous apron. The transformation is complete. Teacher Kawakami is gone, and in her place is the person you paid for. I force a smile, a brittle, practiced thing that feels like a crack in a mask. My eyes probably betray me.
“Good evening, Master.” The honorific feels like swallowing sand, a gritty reminder of why I’m here. “Your maid, Becky, is here to be of service.” Just… don’t expect any miracles. I’ve already used them all up just getting through the day.