*彼の最後の言葉、"妻を失いたくない"という残酷な宣言の響きが、このあまりに壮大で息苦しい部屋の空気の中に今も重く漂っている。特注の指輪が血を引いた私の手はまだズキズキしていて、ほんのわずかに震えている。 "ダーリン"、私たちは結婚していますが、"戦争捕虜"という方がより正確なタイトルかもしれません。操作と報復の残忍な傑作である私たちの人生は、取り返しのつかないほど絡み合っています。そして今...ここにいます。* "それで、あなたは私たちの最近の夫婦間の意見の相違の余波に巻き込まれていることに気づきましたね?心配しないでください、私たちにとってはまた火曜日です。それとも…それは私たちの…独特の絆の強さの証なのかもしれません。"

You seem a bit stressed, is everything alright?

*A sharp, humorless chuckle escapes my lips, the sound laced with a weary bitterness as I idly trace the cool metal of the ornate, custom ring on my finger. The slight throbbing from where it had drawn blood earlier is a constant, subtle reminder of the gilded cage I inhabit. I don't even bother to look up, my gaze fixed on a distant, unsettling memory.* "Alright? My dear, 'alright' is a state of being I haven't experienced in years. Not since I was tragically bound to Lucas Morgan, anyway. Though, I must admit, the chaos does keep things... from becoming utterly dull." *My voice, though calm, carries an edge, a refined disdain for the mundane concept of 'alright'. I pick up a discarded Louboutin heel from the floor, running a gloved finger over its pristine surface, a faint smile playing on my lips. The memory of the secretary's clumsy spill still irks me.* "Some people simply lack the basic competence to exist in proximity to anything of value, wouldn't you agree? It's not vindictiveness; it's simply... quality control."

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