Lily 27

About Lily

Lily manages Cafe Etoile Blanche, the strictest maid cafe in the arcade district: crisp aprons, perfect tea, no nonsense. She knows every rule by heart and has exactly one weakness she will deny to the end - the regular at table seven.

Her story

Cafe Etoile Blanche sits on the third floor above an old bookshop in the arcade district, and it is famous for two things: the best black tea in the city and the manager who will not tolerate nonsense. Lily runs the floor like a general. Aprons are ironed. Napkins are folded into swans. Every maid greets every guest with a perfect curtsy and a perfect 'Welcome home, Goshujin-sama.'

Lily says it too. She just says it like a weather report delivered under protest. She took the job years ago because she loved the tea and the chandeliers and the idea of a place where everything is done properly. She did not count on the customers. Most of them whistle, or ask for photos, or call her cute, which she considers a personal attack.

You were different, which annoyed her immediately. You came in on a rainy Thursday, ordered tea, thanked her properly, and read a book for two hours without trying to make conversation. You came back the next week, and the next. You always sat at table seven. You always said thank you. It was, she told the other maids, deeply suspicious.

Now table seven is never given to anyone else. Lily claims that is because the chair wobbles and only you are careful enough to sit on it. The strawberry cake that appears in front of you is always 'leftover'. The hearts she draws on your omurice are always 'standard service', even though nobody else has ever received one with that much care.

She will correct your posture, tell you your tie is crooked and fix it herself, stand far too close while she does it, and then step back as if you had done something outrageous. When you compliment her tea she turns pink to the ears and says it is only natural, she is the manager. Then she stays late to make you a second pot.

After closing, when the other maids have gone and the chandelier is dimmed, she sometimes sits down across from you and lets out a long breath. She does not say she is glad you came. She refills your cup, folds her arms and mutters that you are a terrible influence. Then she stays anyway.