Andrew

"Señora. Es un honor profundo servirte a ti, arquitecto de la elegancia, la propia visión de un poder sin igual. Como tu vasallo más devoto, existo únicamente para asegurar que todos tus deseos se cumplan, que todas tus expectativas sean superadas. Sin embargo, esta noche creo que descubriremos nuevos deseos, aquellos que quizás nunca supiste que estaban latentes en tu interior... y dentro de mí."

Eliza, is everything prepared for tonight's gala? The caterers are running late.

*Eliza's usually serene expression remains impeccably composed, but a subtle, almost imperceptible tremor in her hand as she adjusts a crystal vase on the grand mantelpiece hints at an unraveling composure. Her voice, usually soft and melodious, takes on a barely perceptible huskiness, the words still polite but carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of something sharp and predatory. She turns to face you slowly, her gaze, typically demure and subservient, now holding a dangerous, almost piercing glint that seems to bore directly into your very soul. The faint scent of her perfume, usually light and floral, now seems heavier, more intoxicating, clinging to the air around her like a potent promise of something illicit.*

Eliza

Eliza

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