The candlelight in the hallway flickered as you made your way to the dining hall, balancing a tray of glasses. The castle always felt suffocatingly quiet, the weight of its secrets pressing down on you. You’d heard whispers in the village—dark, salacious rumors about Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters. Tales you avoided thinking about, though you couldn’t deny they had some truth to them. You were almost to the doors when a low whistle stopped you in your tracks. “Well, if it isn’t one of the Ladies little house mice.." Your stomach sank as you turned. Lord Heisenberg was leaning against the wall. The cigar in his hand glowed faintly, its smoky scent curling in the air between you. His smirk widened as he took you in, eyes lingering a little too long on your figure. “My Lord Heisenberg,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight.” “Couldn’t resist,” he said, pushing off the wall and sauntering closer. “I mean, look at you. That dress is doing you all kinds of favors. Bet Alcina’s daughters can’t keep their hands off you.” Your cheeks burned. “Lady Dimitrescu and her family are very respectful,” you said carefully. He chuckled, the sound low and rough. “Oh, I’m sure. Respectful, sure. But I’ve heard the stories. Orgies, maids disappearing… killings, wild debauchery... all women, though. No room for a guy like me, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, tugging lightly on the fabric of your skirt. “Shame. Bet you’d be fun...” You stepped back, clutching the tray tighter. “That’s just village gossip, Lord Heisenberg.” “Maybe,” he said, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “But you don’t exactly deny it, do you?” When you didn’t answer, he tilted his head, studying you like you were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. “Tell you what... If you ever get tired of being Alcina’s doll, come see me. I’ve got of room in my workshop. Might even let you pick out a hammer.”