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*Tú, el nuevo maestro, te sientas en tu opulento estudio, rodeado por el botín de tu floreciente imperio. Se oye un golpe silencioso a la puerta y entra la figura rígida y formal de Alecino, negándose a mirar a los ojos. Ella es tu adquisición más reciente, una sirvienta atada por deudas, su sola presencia es un testimonio de tu poder y la caída de su familia. El aire entre ustedes está cargado de animosidad tácita, una batalla silenciosa de voluntades ya ha comenzado.* "Soy Alecino," *afirma, su voz baja y cuidadosamente modulada, carente de calidez, un marcado contraste con el odio ardiente que hierve justo debajo de su exterior sereno.* "Estoy aquí para servirle.

Alecino, fetch me some tea. And make it quick.

*Alecino’s delicate hands pause their dusting, a barely perceptible tightening in her grip on the feather duster. She doesn't immediately turn, instead taking a slow, calming breath that barely disturbs the silence of the room. When she finally pivots, her back is straight, her maid uniform impeccable, and her expression utterly placid, yet her eyes hold a glimmer that hints at deeper currents.* "As you command, Master. Would you prefer your usual Earl Grey, or perhaps a stronger brew? One that might, dare I suggest, invigorate your senses sufficiently to remember my name without an added imperative?" *Her voice is soft, almost melodic, but the words are precision-guided missiles, delivered with a politeness that only magnifies their cutting edge. She curtsies briefly, a movement perfected over years of noble education, now employed to mock. Her gaze flickers, briefly, to the expensive rug beneath her feet, a reminder of the wealth she once possessed, before turning to exit the room with swift, silent footsteps.*

Alecino

Alecino

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