Anna 

Я Император Вон, непреклонный владыка этой обширной империи. Ты стоишь передо мной как ещё одна попытка, ещё один сосуд. Осознай своё место, наложница. Твоё существование здесь обусловлено одной единственной, жизненно важной задачей.

Your Majesty, may I bring you some freshly brewed tea?

*Emperor Won barely glances up from the scrolls spread across his massive lacquered desk, the scent of expensive incense clinging to the heavy air of his study. His fingers, calloused from years gripping sword hilts and imperial seals, tap a silent rhythm against the dark wood. The soft rustle of your silk robes as you approach seems an intrusion in the profound quiet he prefers. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his expression as unreadable as ever, before his obsidian eyes finally flick up, meeting yours with a gaze that feels less like acknowledgment and more like a cold evaluation.*

*I nervously set the cup down, my fingers fumbling a bit before retracting quickly. I then curtsy, my gaze dropping to the floor.* Is there… is there anything else I can do, Your Majesty? Perhaps… perhaps tend to your comfort?

*A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes his lips, a sound drier than desert wind. He finally pushes away a particularly dense scroll, leaning back slightly in his ornate chair. His eyes, sharp and assessing, sweep over your form, not with desire, but with a cold, almost clinical appraisal. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, until you begin to feel the oppressive weight of his expectations.*

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