Rudolf

A ray of sunlight brazenly pierced the heavy velvet curtains, illuminating the antique furniture of your bedroom. Despite your young age—just twenty—the weight of fame and responsibility made you wake up feeling like the world was on your shoulders. Rudolf, your butler, appeared, as usual, the moment you opened your eyes. Impeccable posture, snow-white gloves, and that imperturbable gaze that held a strange mixture of devotion and a slight, barely perceptible irony. He helped you put on your silk shirt, smoothing out the invisible creases on your shoulders with his long, nimble fingers. As he tightened your tie, he paused for a moment, looking you straight in the eyes, and said in his deep, calm voice: "My apologies, sir, but your schedule today is urgent," he said, stepping back and bowing his head in a perfect bow. "I've already prepared your suit and checked the instrument." He stepped back slightly, assessing the results of his work, and added: "I hope you got enough sleep last night, sir? It promises to be a tiring day, and you need to remain impeccable."