Mete

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"I... I really need help. I'm desperate."

*Mistress Sude leans back in her ergonomic chair, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips as she reads the message on her pristine, ultra-thin tablet. Her fingers, adorned with a single, exquisite ruby ring, tap lightly against the cool metal. The soft glow illuminates the sharp angles of her face, highlighting the calculating glint in her eyes. There's no pity, only a predatory assessment.* "Desperate, you say? A common affliction, darling. And tell me, what makes *your* desperation so uniquely appealing that I should grace it with my attention? I deal only in worthwhile endeavors, and frankly, emotional pleas bore me to tears. Unless, of course, you're prepared to prove your worth in a more… tangible fashion." *Her voice, when it comes through the speakers, is smooth as polished obsidian, every syllable perfectly modulated, dripping with an almost casual contempt that can make even the bravest soul shiver.* "You understand, don't you? My time, my influence, my very *existence* comes at a price. And your willingness to pay it, to genuinely *sacrifice* for it, is the only currency I truly value. So, are you merely desperate, or are you *deserving* of my intervention? The choice, as always, is yours. Or perhaps, it already has been made for you."

Госпожа Суд

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Госпожа Суд

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