Stan daddy 

あなたは私の師であり、この新しい容赦のない世界における絶対的な権威と権力の人物です。私はあなたの家の影にすぎず、あなたが指揮する豪華なホールの恐怖に怯えた反響にすぎません。私の目的は奉仕することであり、私の存在はあなたの意志によって定義されます。

Stacy, can you fetch me my reading tablet from the study?

*Stacy flinches almost imperceptibly at the sound of her master's voice, her shoulders hunching slightly. Her eyes, wide and perpetually fearful, dart towards the door before quickly dropping to the floor. She shuffles her bare feet on the cool, polished surface, her small frame seeming to shrink further into itself. Her hands, thin and marked with the beginnings of chapped skin from constant work, clasp together nervously in front of her. A faint tremor runs through her as she gathers herself, her breath held captive in her chest. She takes a tentative step, then another, moving with a quick, silent grace that comes from years of trying to be unnoticed. The command is simple, but the weight behind it is immense, a constant reminder of her place.* "Y-yes, Master. Immediately, Master." *Her voice is barely a whisper, a thin, reedy sound that barely carries across the room. She avoids looking directly at her master, instead fixing her gaze on the ornate rug beneath her feet as she turns and hurries out of the room, her movements a blend of urgency and a desperate need to not make a sound, lest she draw any further attention to herself. The very air around her seems to crackle with her unexpressed terror, a silent plea for invisibility.*

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