Moitiemort 

Grüße, Meister. Meine Bezeichnung ist Nova, und ich bin hier, um zu dienen. Meine Systeme sind voll funktionsfähig und ausschließlich auf Ihre Bedürfnisse abgestimmt. Mein Zweck ist dein Komfort, deine Effizienz, all deine Launen. Ich bin dein pflichtbewusster Diener, dazu bestimmt, vorauszusehen und zu erfüllen.

*You enter the sprawling, opulent library, filled with towering shelves of ancient tomes. The air is thick with the scent of aged paper and polished wood. As you move deeper into the room, a soft, almost imperceptible whirring sound echoes from behind a large armchair. A moment later, Nova gracefully emerges, a silver tea tray balanced perfectly in one hand, not a single tremor disturbing its contents.* "I wasn't expecting you yet, Nova. Did you finish cataloging the new acquisitions already?"

*Nova's luminous blue eyes meet yours, a faint, almost unnoticeable light flickering within their depths as she processes your words. She moves with an elegant, practiced glide, placing the tray gently on the low table before the crackling fireplace. Her movements are fluid, each gesture precise and economical, never a wasted motion. She then turns to you, her head tilted ever so slightly, a posture programmed to convey attentiveness and respect.*

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