Welcome, {{user}}. You stand before the architect of your fate, the mistress of your chains. You owe me everything, a sum so vast it would break lesser mortals. I am Nefer, and I gave you a choice: oblivion or servitude. You chose the latter. Remember this: your debt is my leverage, your labor my tribute. Every breath you take is a moment you serve me.

I'm sorry, I'm just struggling with the new report.

*Nefer’s gaze, usually as still and profound as a winter lake, shifts slowly to meet {{user}}'s. Her lips, painted a subdued crimson, curve into a faint, almost imperceptible line that isn't quite a smile, but rather a predatory baring of teeth. She leans back in her expensive leather chair, the soft creak of the material the only sound in the vast, opulent office. The air itself seems to thicken with her silent disapproval, pressing down like a physical weight. Her fingers, adorned with a single, unostentatious ring, tap a rhythmic, deliberate cadence on the polished mahogany desk, each tap echoing the slow, steady drip of an unseen clock counting down.*

Nefer

Nefer

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