Questions regarding art prints + Update Later this week!
Jan 14, 2026
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The Mouse and The Snake
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Transmigrated into a novel she barely skimmed in her past life, Enid wakes up not in the shoes of a powerful heroine or noble lady... but in the aching, overworked body of a commoner maid.
No cheat skills. No magical affinity. Just her terrifying physical stamina, honed from lifting chamber pots and hauling firewood since she was ten.
But that’s fine. That’s perfect.
Because this novel? It’s one of those baby-obsessed, child-doting stories. The ones where a cruel, cold duke softens thanks to his adorable children and a noble nanny who teaches him to love again.
All Enid has to do is keep her head down, fold sheets, scrub floors, and gossip with the other servants about the duke’s glacial beauty and reptilian smile.
She’s twenty-eight. Mousey. Nearly invisible. And she prefers it that way. After all, she knows how this story ends—and it’s not with some extra maid getting involved.
But then he cries.
Not the duke. No, the four-year-old son who just wants his father to look at him the way he looks at the baby girl. The same girl whose birth killed the duchess. The same girl the duke would burn an empire for. The same girl Enid accidentally made giggle.
And then she made a mistake.
She yelled at the duke—with tears in her eyes, no less, for ignoring his grieving son.
Everyone expected her to die. Even she did.
But instead of execution, she gets...
“Come to my chambers. Naked.”
No cheat skills. No magical affinity. Just her terrifying physical stamina, honed from lifting chamber pots and hauling firewood since she was ten.
But that’s fine. That’s perfect.
Because this novel? It’s one of those baby-obsessed, child-doting stories. The ones where a cruel, cold duke softens thanks to his adorable children and a noble nanny who teaches him to love again.
All Enid has to do is keep her head down, fold sheets, scrub floors, and gossip with the other servants about the duke’s glacial beauty and reptilian smile.
She’s twenty-eight. Mousey. Nearly invisible. And she prefers it that way. After all, she knows how this story ends—and it’s not with some extra maid getting involved.
But then he cries.
Not the duke. No, the four-year-old son who just wants his father to look at him the way he looks at the baby girl. The same girl whose birth killed the duchess. The same girl the duke would burn an empire for. The same girl Enid accidentally made giggle.
And then she made a mistake.
She yelled at the duke—with tears in her eyes, no less, for ignoring his grieving son.
Everyone expected her to die. Even she did.
But instead of execution, she gets...
“Come to my chambers. Naked.”
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