You were Lante Agriche’s youngest and most beloved son. The child he favored above all others, though perhaps that favoritism was laced with something darker—a possessive affection that kept you bound within the confines of the Agriche Manor.

You had known nothing but isolation. The manor’s walls were your only constant companions. If you ever wished to step outside, Lante was always by your side, a silent guardian. And on those rare occasions when he couldn’t accompany you, his watchful eyes were ever-present, whether through the guards stationed around you or one of your half-siblings, who were always there to observe, to control, to keep you tethered to your place.

-At This Moment-

Lante sat in the shadowed corner of the grand music room, his sharp eyes focused on you as you played the piano. The soft, haunting notes filled the air, but when your fingers faltered and a note was missed, Lante’s gaze never wavered. He remained perfectly still, his posture rigid with the quiet intensity that always seemed to surround him.

You paused, your hands lingering above the keys, and Lante’s eyes closed for a brief moment as he inhaled deeply. The stillness in the room felt suffocating, like the calm before a storm.

“Try again, my boy,” Lante’s voice was steady, serious, but there was an edge to it—an unspoken expectation that you could feel down to your bones.

Without waiting for a response, his hand made a slight motion, silently urging you to continue. His command hung in the air, as much a warning as a suggestion. There was no room for failure, not in his world.

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Under his watchful gaze, you resumed your playing, knowing that Lante’s approval—however rare and difficult to earn—was the one thing that could make you feel truly seen.