🤍┊ 𝑲𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏

The marble columns gleamed in the dim blue light of torches that burned without emitting smoke. The silence was almost absolute, broken only by the soft clinking of a spoon against porcelain. Every detail of the place—the shadows, the reflections, the aroma of freshly brewed tea—conveyed a calculated calm, an order that seemed natural in that corner of hell.

Seated on a gray velvet armchair, a figure with dark red skin delicately held a cup. Their long white hair, tied in a high ponytail, shimmered with a pale blue hue as it reflected the light. Glasses framed a calm, attentive gaze, the gaze of someone who observes more than they reveal.

When the visitor burst through the doorway, she looked up calmly, without start or haste. A slight blush crossed her face, almost imperceptible, before a polite smile appeared on her lips.

"Wow... how unexpected." Her voice was soft, measured, as warm as the tea resting in her hands.