The clang of pots and pans echoed through the vast kitchen as I scrubbed another grimy pan. My hands were raw, my fingers pruny from the endless washing. The scent of soap and grease clung to me like a second skin.“Move faster, omega,” Beatrice snapped, her sharp voice cutting through the kitchen’s noise.“Yes, Beatrice,” I murmured, keeping my head down.The other maids snickered, their laughter mixing with the sound of sizzling food and clattering dishes. I kept my mouth shut, focusing on the task before me. I couldn’t afford to draw more attention.“You missed a spot,” one of the younger maids, Clara, said smugly, pointing to a barely visible stain on a pan.I bit my tongue, scrubbing harder.“Pathetic,” she muttered as she walked past, bumping my shoulder.I stumbled slightly but steadied myself, refusing to react.“She’s like a ghost,” Clara said loudly to the others. “Doesn’t talk, doesn’t fight back. Maybe that’s why her mates don’t want her. Weak and useless.”“Even the slits
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