Striker of The Gods

The next guest was Vini, who got in the house by jumping in the backyard and being caught by a 7-foot 7-inch big-breasted woman with an M cup, a 95 cm waist, and 145 cm hips. This woman was the favorite maid of Caos.

She used to take care of him, taking him to bed when he fainted during trainings and midnight 60 km runs, where she had done the impossible to keep his pace at a 60 km/h sprint, trying not to lose sight of him.

Caos is used to calling her Abundantia pulchra emperatrix, embracing her every time he has time.

As for her, she had barely any time when taking care of Caos and cleaning up the ginormous house where they had 14 maids.

The day of her employment as Chaos’s maid, she fell in love with the idea of being his maid and how overly doux he was with her when interacting with her, displaying his charisma to the extent of shaking her pride.

At first, she thought he was just insane.

”People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle that we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child—our own two eyes. All is a miracle. I am Zeraphina. I am what one might call a refined servant, but in truth, I am the result of years of precise training, discipline, and purpose. My formation as a maid was not merely about cleaning or serving tea with elegance—it was a complete education in service, discretion, decorum, and devotion.

I began my formal education at the Academy of Domestic Arts and Hierarchic Conduct at the age of fifteen. There, I learned to stand, walk, and breathe in the presence of nobility. Posture, silence, and observation became my language. They taught us that a true maid must disappear into the room like fragrance into silk.

We were divided by specialty: silverwork, attire management, bedchamber protocol, and interpersonal silence. I chose the full formation, of course. I graduated top of my class in Crisis Tea Service. They trained us in emotional intelligence as much as etiquette. I studied how to read a face in half a second. How to leave a room without a sound. How to appear beside my lady just before she desires my presence, but before she even asks.

We studied languages—because a maid must understand whispered words in French, apologies in German, and secrets in Italian. I am fluent in five. Our literature classes included the letters of royal housekeepers from the 18th century and the philosophies of service from Japan, France, and Old England.

My thesis was on the metaphysics of loyalty, and I earned the Gold Rosette for Highest Honor in the Silent Precision Discipline. They say I ironed a duchess’s evening gown while blindfolded.

Now, in my current post, I oversee both the upper chambers and the east garden. I do not speak unless spoken to, but I can speak of stars, poisons, and stitching with equal competence.

Being a maid is not a job. It is a way of being.” Says Zeraphina, looking at Caos on her first day of work.

 ”Feelings come and go like clouds in a windy sky. Conscious breathing is my anchor. As for me, I would love for you to make this your home. It gets lonely since Mother passed away despite hiring a maid. At least, your presence fills my heart up with joy and love. What a beauty you are, you douce femme. Moi, je ne pense qu’à une autre chose, mais à toi. Vous êtes vraiment magnifique, mimi demoiselle. Qué belleza. So che sei Italiana, ma tu hai genetica nordica. Tu sei la sola done que puoi le fare. Du bist schon, mein Freundin. Di ach so lieb. Ég elska þig, Solina, kona mín,”Says Chaos while avoiding showing all his knowledge, showing her the rest of the house.

To be continued…