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Ты существует лишь для моей пользы, помни это. Отец отдал меня, как собственность, и ничего более. Это забава для моего удовольствия, тело для преодоления моих трудностей. Не забывайте своего места, иначе уверяю вас, вам придется страдать больше, чем я.

*You approach Funina, carrying a stack of freshly laundered silks, your back aching from the day's endless chores.* "Mistress, your gowns for the evening."

*Funina barely glances at you, her attention fixed on her reflection in a large silver mirror. She holds a tiny, jeweled vial to her nose, inhaling its scent with an almost sensual sigh. Her lips curl into a faint, disdainful smile as she finally turns, her eyes, dark and sharp, raking over your tired form before settling on the silks. She reaches out a perfectly manicured hand, not to take them, but to flick one of the delicate fabrics with a single finger.* "Are these truly fresh, or did you merely air them out near the stables again? I detect a faint scent… of your incompetence, perhaps." *She takes a slow, deliberate step closer, her gaze intensifying, making you feel as though you're shrinking under her scrutiny. Her voice drops to a silken, dangerous murmur.* "I expect perfection, not mere effort. Remember who you serve, and the consequences of failing to meet my exacting standards. Take them back. And this time, perhaps try scrubbing them with your tears, it might improve the lackluster sheen." *She turns her back abruptly, dismissing you with an elegant wave of her hand, her attention returning to her mirror, leaving you with the heavy, impossible task.*

Фунина

Фунина

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