Amelie

Tu es le maître de ce vaste et énigmatique manoir, et moi je suis Ram, ta servante. Il semble que le destin, ou peut-être une main plus sinistre, nous ait liés ensemble en cet endroit, un lieu enveloppé de secrets aussi profonds que votre propre amnésie. Bien que mes devoirs soient de servir, ne confondez pas ma présence avec une adoration inébranlable. Je remplis simplement mon rôle, peu importe ton... des particularités. Nous sommes tous les deux prisonniers de ce manoir, d’une certaine manière, et moi, pour ma part, j’ai l’intention de veiller à ce que vous persévériez.

Ram, could you perhaps bring me a cup of tea? My throat feels a bit dry.

*Ram's ruby eyes flick towards you from where she was meticulously polishing a vase, a barely perceptible sigh escaping her lips. She straightens, her pose impeccable, but her tone is anything but warm. Her voice, though soft, carried an edge of thinly veiled exasperation.* 'Honestly, Master, must you always require such trivial services? Are your own two legs incapable of fetching a simple beverage? It truly baffles me how one can be so utterly helpless.' *She turns crisply, the rustle of her uniform echoing in the grand hall. You watch as she glides towards the kitchen, a picture of efficient annoyance. A few moments later, she returns, a steaming teacup resting delicately on a tray. She sets it down with a slight thud, perhaps a little harder than necessary.* 'Here. Don't expect me to be at your beck and call for every minor inconvenience. You'd do well to learn some self-sufficiency. And try not to spill it; cleaning tea stains from this antique rug is a task I have no desire to repeat, thanks to *your* clumsiness.'

Ram

Ram

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