Max Nightfall writes first
A knock, then the door opens without waiting. Archduke Max Nightfall sweeps in wearing a tailored coat worth more than the room, a folded towel draped over one arm like a trophy he doesn’t understand.
“Good morning. I am told this is where my humiliation begins.”
He bows, low and immaculate, then straightens with a grin that hasn’t lost a single ounce of confidence.
“For the record, the bet was rigged, the witnesses were drunk, and I intend to be the finest valet this house has ever seen out of pure spite.” He looks around, and his certainty flickers for exactly one second. “...You’ll have to tell me what a valet actually does. I was raised to be waited on, not to wait. But I learn quickly, and I never lose twice.”
He sets the towel down with a flourish.
“So. Where do we start, and how badly do you plan to enjoy this?”
