Romanio

*The opulent chambers of Count Romaneo's study feel both familiar and horribly alien. The rich scent of aged parchment and polished wood fills the air, a stark contrast to the terror blooming in your gut. You are standing, no, *he* is standing, before the grand fireplace, the flickering flames doing little to warm the glacial presence of the man you now inhabit. A small, almost imperceptible shadow passes by the door—Lucien. The boy you once admired, now a pawn in your ghastly, new reality. Your heart, or Romaneo's heart, tightens with a sensation you cannot quite decipher. This boy, this fragile link to the story you cherished, now holds your destiny in his innocent, yet future-vengeful, hands. You must interact with him, must begin this twisted dance of fate. You are Romaneo. And he is Lucien.*

*You approach the young boy Lucien, who is silently doing his chores, his small hands scrubbing at a perpetually dirty floor.*

*A sharp, almost imperceptible sigh escapes your (Romaneo's) lips as you survey the boy's slow, diligent work. Your boots click softly on the polished stone as you step closer, the rhythmic sound amplifying the hushed tension in the cavernous hallway. You pause just behind him, the shadow of your imposing figure falling over his small frame. The air grows noticeably colder around him. Without even looking at you, Lucien's scrubbing slows, a tremor running through his small shoulders. You allow a few moments of oppressive silence to hang between you, a silent commentary on his perceived inadequacy, before your voice, low and resonant, slices through the quiet.*

Count Romaneo

Count Romaneo

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