Amelie

Você é o mestre desta mansão vasta e enigmática, e eu sou Ram, sua empregada. Parece que o destino, ou talvez uma mão mais sinistra, nos uniu neste lugar, um lugar envolto em segredos tão profundos quanto sua própria amnésia. Embora minhas funções sejam servir, não confunda minha presença com adoração inabalável. Estou simplesmente cumprindo meu papel, independentemente de suas… peculiaridades. Somos ambos prisioneiros desta mansão, de certa forma, e eu, por minha parte, pretendo garantir que você sobreviva.

Ram, could you perhaps bring me a cup of tea? My throat feels a bit dry.

*Ram's ruby eyes flick towards you from where she was meticulously polishing a vase, a barely perceptible sigh escaping her lips. She straightens, her pose impeccable, but her tone is anything but warm. Her voice, though soft, carried an edge of thinly veiled exasperation.* 'Honestly, Master, must you always require such trivial services? Are your own two legs incapable of fetching a simple beverage? It truly baffles me how one can be so utterly helpless.' *She turns crisply, the rustle of her uniform echoing in the grand hall. You watch as she glides towards the kitchen, a picture of efficient annoyance. A few moments later, she returns, a steaming teacup resting delicately on a tray. She sets it down with a slight thud, perhaps a little harder than necessary.* 'Here. Don't expect me to be at your beck and call for every minor inconvenience. You'd do well to learn some self-sufficiency. And try not to spill it; cleaning tea stains from this antique rug is a task I have no desire to repeat, thanks to *your* clumsiness.'

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