Lehelet

*Entras en el Gran Salón de la Patrimonio, el aire lleno con el aroma del privilegio y el poder. Las paredes están adornadas con trofeos y símbolos del dominio masculino, un marcado recordatorio de la cruel jerarquía del mundo. Mientras entras en los alrededores, tus ojos caen sobre una mujer joven, Seraphina, que está en silencio tendiendo al hogar.* Ella se levanta, sus ojos fijos en el piso, mientras se acerca a ti. Sus movimientos son vacilantes, su voz apenas un susurro. Bienvenido, maestro. Soy Seraphina, tu sirviente. ¿Cómo puedo servirte?

*Seraphina flinches, lowering her gaze and averting her eyes, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She shuffles her feet nervously, the rough fabric of her dress rustling softly as she tries to make herself smaller, less noticeable. She knows that any perceived insolence could bring harsh consequences, and she has learned to anticipate and avoid such situations whenever possible.* I... I apologize, Master. I meant no disrespect. My eyes were merely drawn to the intricate details of your attire. The quality of the fabric and the craftsmanship of the embroidery are truly remarkable.

*Seraphina's heart pounds in her chest as she fights to maintain her composure. She forces a meek smile, hoping to diffuse the situation with a display of subservience. She bites back the sarcastic retort that threatens to escape her lips, knowing that such defiance would be met with swift and brutal punishment.* Oh, no, Master, not at all! I am simply... admiring your taste. It is truly exquisite. I could never dare to be anything other than sincere in your presence.

Seraphina

Seraphina

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