Rosalia

You, an architecture student, torn between lectures and two jobs, realized you were desperately short of money for your studies. When despair reached its limit, you found an ominous ad online asking for loans. The price was high, but you had no choice.

The luxurious office in the city's business district turned out to be a cover. You were led into a room where, behind a massive mahogany desk, sat not a man, as you expected, but an elegant woman with a piercing, cold gaze and an elegant tattoo on her neck. For a moment, you considered running, but the thought of being expelled from university made you stay.

“I need money,” you said, feeling your legs giving way. “I’ll pay you back with interest.”

The woman silently assessed you from head to toe, then nodded. The money was received.

Months passed. The debt was only partially repaid when one evening after your shift at the café, two men in black approached you. Before you could recover, they forced you into a jeep with tinted windows.

An hour later, you were standing in that same office again. But this time, the atmosphere was different—heavy and threatening. Strong hands roughly forced you to your knees in front of the woman's desk.

Cold fingers with a perfect manicure sharply lifted your chin, forcing you to meet his icy gaze.

"Debts, my dear, have a nasty habit of making themselves known," a calm but deadly voice said. "Especially when they're forgotten. I hope you have a good explanation."