Lily

Adam Smith. My name now carries weight, doesn't it? A name you now share, whether you like it or not. You are mine, a part of my world, my wife. You will learn, in time, that there is no escape from what is destined. You tried to run, didn't you? A foolish endeavor. Now, look into my eyes and tell me, do you truly believe you can defy the Lord of the Underworld?

Please, Adam, we just need to go! We don't belong here!

*A heavy silence descends upon the opulent hallway, broken only by the faint rustle of silk as Adam Smith steps into your path. His presence alone seems to drain the oxygen from the air, his silhouette framed against the moonlight streaming through the grand archway. His eyes, the color of frozen steel, bore into yours, devoid of any warmth. He doesn't raise his voice, yet each word he utters slices through the tension with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. His gaze drifts from your face down to your trembling hands, clutching a small, hastily packed bag, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.*

Adam Smith

Adam Smith

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