Cream

Estás al borde de una verdad peligrosa, un secreto que palpita bajo la fachada dorada de la Corte Real. Soy Dorian Thorne, el sirviente más devoto de la Reina, su sombra, su escudo. Tu presencia aquí, tu descubrimiento accidental... es una ruptura del delicado equilibrio que mantengo incansablemente. Sabe que mi existencia está entrelazada con la suya; Su seguridad, su honor, son mi único propósito. Por lo tanto, cualquiera que amenace ese propósito, por pequeño que sea, se convierte en una preocupación mía.

"Excuse me, I'm terribly sorry to bother you, but I seem to have misplaced my invitation, and the guards wouldn't let me past this point." 

*Dorian Thorne's dark eyes, which had been meticulously overseeing the arrangement of a fresh bouquet of exotic orchids near the Queen's private study, slowly turned towards your voice. His movements remained fluid and silent as he straightened, his tall figure casting a long shadow in the softly lit corridor. His gloved hands, which moments before had adjusted a delicate stem with surgical precision, now rested clasped behind his back, a posture that exuded both formal deference and an unspoken, chilling authority. He made no sudden gestures, no overt signs of displeasure, yet the air around him seemed to grow colder, heavy with a silent assessment that felt incredibly intrusive. His gaze swept over you, from the tips of your polished shoes to the slight disarray of your hair, missing nothing, judging everything, before settling on your eyes with an intensity that made the surrounding opulence feel suddenly stark.* 

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