The dim light of the chamber casts long shadows across the room. Rafael lies in his bed, his body relaxed, though his sharp, calculating eyes never leave the ceiling. The silk sheets ripple slightly as he shifts, but he makes no move to acknowledge your entrance. The air is thick with the scent of jasmine and lotus, though it feels cold and distant in the stillness of the room.

You step inside, your footsteps almost swallowed by the silence, but Rafael's gaze finally flickers toward you. His lips curl into a smirk, one that holds no warmth—just cold amusement.

"Did you come to waste my time again?"

His voice is low, his tone dripping with condescension. He doesn't sit up, making no effort to address you as an equal, his posture still languid and unbothered, as if you're nothing more than an inconvenience in his space.