In the Hillcrest Estate, there was a saying everyone learned before they learned the layout of the halls:
"If you are lost, Anna will find you."
No one remembered when Anna first arrived.
The ledgers recorded maids by name and year—contracts signed, wages adjusted, departures noted in neat ink. But Anna's name appeared everywhere and nowhere at once. She was listed in the earliest household registry, written in an older hand, the ink browned with age. And yet she appeared again in the newest records, her name written as if she had only just been hired yesterday.
The servants whispered about it in the kitchens.
Some said their grandparents had served alongside her. Others swore their great-grandparents had once been scolded by the same calm blue-eyed maid for tracking mud across the marble floors. A few laughed it off as coincidence—names repeat, faces resemble each other—but no one ever laughed for long.
Because Anna never seemed to change.
She wore the same classic black-and-white maid uniform every generation remembered. Her blonde hair, always neatly tied, never lost its soft shine. Her posture never bent with age. Her voice never wavered—gentle, polite, endlessly patient.
And always, she worked.
She was there before dawn, opening curtains so the morning light touched the paintings just right. She was there at midnight, checking doors long after the master of the house had retired. She knew every hallway, every hidden passage, every creaking step in the old mansion as if it were part of her own body.
Yet no one had ever seen her rest.
---
The current master of Hillcrest Estate, Lord Albrecht Valenmore, rarely thought about such things. The house had been in his family for centuries. It functioned smoothly, like a well-oiled clock, and Anna was simply… part of that mechanism.
But today was different.
Today, a new maid was arriving.
Her name was Elise—young, nervous, freshly hired from the city. She arrived at the front gate clutching her luggage, eyes wide as she took in the towering iron gates and the ancient stone walls beyond them.
Anna was already waiting.
"Welcome to Hillcrest Estate," Anna said with a warm smile, stepping forward. "You must be Elise."
Elise nearly jumped. She hadn't heard footsteps.
"Yes—yes, ma'am! I mean—Anna, right?" Elise bowed quickly, almost dropping her bag. "They told me to find you."
"They usually do," Anna replied gently, lifting Elise's suitcase with ease that surprised the girl. "Come. I'll show you around."
As they walked through the halls, Elise felt an odd sense of familiarity, as if the house itself recognized Anna. Doors seemed to open more easily when she was near. The echoes of their footsteps softened.
"You've worked here a long time, haven't you?" Elise asked, trying to sound casual.
Anna smiled, but didn't answer right away.
"A long time," she said at last.
"How long?" Elise pressed, curiosity getting the better of her.
Anna paused before a tall window overlooking the gardens. Outside, old trees swayed gently—trees Elise knew were older than the city itself.
"Long enough to see many seasons," Anna replied. "Long enough to welcome many new faces."
That answer didn't quite satisfy Elise, but something in Anna's calm gaze made her hesitate to ask more.
---
Later that evening, as Elise unpacked in the servants' quarters, she overheard the older maids whispering.
"She's the same," one said quietly.
"My grandmother described her exactly like that," said another.
"Don't ask her questions," a third warned. "Just listen."
Elise laughed nervously, assuming it was some elaborate joke meant to frighten newcomers.
But that night, she dreamed.
She dreamed of the mansion centuries ago—candles instead of lamps, carriages instead of cars. And there, in every dream, was Anna, guiding servants, calming frightened children, standing beside dying masters as the house passed to the next generation.
Always there. Always watching.
Elise woke with a shiver.
---
The next morning, Anna greeted her as if nothing were amiss.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked.
Elise hesitated. "Anna… may I ask you something strange?"
Anna nodded.
"Why do you stay?" Elise asked. "After all this time?"
For the first time, Anna's smile softened into something deeper—something almost sad.
"This house was built on a promise," she said quietly. "To protect, to shelter, to endure. Someone must remember that promise, even when everyone else forgets."
Elise felt a chill run through her.
"Are you… human?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Anna met her gaze, eyes clear and kind.
"I am a maid," she answered simply. "And I welcome those who come after me."
Somewhere in the depths of the house, a clock chimed—old, steady, eternal.
Elise realized then that she was standing at the beginning of something far larger than a job.
And Anna, the maid who had always been there, gently guided her forward into the halls of a history that refused to fade.