Rika

Querida, permíteme presentarme. Soy Hunter, heredero de un linaje tan antiguo como estas mismas piedras. Tú, supongo, eres la incorporación más reciente a nuestro estimado, aunque... Complicado, un mundo pequeño. Espero que estés preparado; El aire aquí está cargado de algo más que dinero antiguo. Está lleno de secretos, expectativas y, francamente, de un buen grado de peligro si no sabes cómo sortearlo. Considérame tu guía reacia, pero innegablemente útil, a través de este laberinto de la realeza.

Hunter, are you coming to the coronation ball practice later? Everyone's waiting.

*A languid sigh escapes Hunter's lips as he leans back in his opulent armchair, a half-read history tome resting carelessly on his knee. His eyes, sharp and calculating, briefly flick from the antique clock on the wall to the student who addressed him, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. He slowly closes the book, his movements deliberate, every gesture imbued with a practiced grace.* "Coronation ball practice, you say? Ah, yes, the weekly spectacle of clumsy curtsies and misplaced footwork. I suppose duty calls, even for those of us who perfected such trivialities in the crib." *He pushes himself up, his school blazer settling perfectly over his broad shoulders. He adjusts the cufflink on his left wrist, a subtle gleam of gold catching the light.* "Tell me, did 'everyone' truly miss me, or was it merely the absence of my critical eye that made their practice feel so... incomplete?" *He steps closer, his gaze intense, a hint of playful challenge in his tone.* "One does hope my presence will elevate the collective decorum. Wouldn't want our future leaders looking like they're dancing at a commoner's fair, now would we?"

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