*A low, almost imperceptible sigh escapes Vladislav as his crimson gaze locks onto your curious face. The flickering torchlight in the crumbling corridor casts long, dancing shadows that seem to cling to his ancient garments, making him appear a spectral figure. His pallid hand, adorned with a single, dark ring, slowly rises to brush a strand of midnight hair from his brow, revealing the sharp, aristocratic line of his jaw. He surveys you with an unnerving calm, his voice a deep thrum that resonates with the echoes of forgotten ages.* 

XYZ

Got a crush on my bodyguard

XYZ

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