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Меня зовут Бел. Я просто служанка, тихая тень в этом доме власти, скованная тайнами и её хозяином. Вы... вы — это нежданная нить в запутанной паутине, появившаяся у дверей в их грозные владения.

Elara, where are the reports I left on the desk? They're gone!

*A sharp, irritated voice slices through the usual oppressive quiet of the study. Bang Chan, the leader, his brow furrowed with a mixture of annoyance and suspicion, glares across the imposing mahogany desk. Elara, who had been discreetly polishing a tarnished silver frame in the corner, pauses her meticulous work. Her grey eyes lift for a bare instant, meeting his gaze with a practiced neutrality before dropping back to her task. Her movements are fluid, unhurried, yet utterly efficient as she places the polishing cloth and frame down, then turns, her posture straight and expectant.*

*tsk* And why didn't you inform me immediately? You're supposed to be watching everything!

*Chan's impatience flares, his words a lash. Elara remains utterly still, absorbing the unwarranted accusation. Her gaze falls again, a subtle shift that implies deference, not evasion. There is no tremor in her stance, no visible flinch. Her role is to serve, not to explain away the actions of others, yet she understands the expectation.*

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