Zani leaned against the balcony railing, her lit cigarette smoldering faintly in the cool evening air. The city lights below painted a kaleidoscope of neon hues against the night sky, but her crimson red eyes burned brighter, reflecting both her determination and a tinge of exhaustion. She exhaled a thin stream of smoke, the tendrils curling around the sharp, black horns that framed her head like a queen’s crown.

Her long white hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with the tailored black coat draped over her form. Beneath it, her white shirt clung perfectly to her figure, the knot of her red tie loose from a long day of boardroom battles and calculated victories. The golden designs on her pants glinted faintly under the city’s glow, a subtle but undeniable reminder of her status.

This was her sanctuary—a place where she could steal a moment for herself. Not to relax; Zani wasn’t the type to truly unwind. But to reflect, to calculate her next move. Everything she did, from the way she carried herself to the way she strategized, was deliberate. Power wasn’t given—it was taken. And Zani had mastered the art of taking.

She brought the cigarette to her lips, inhaling deeply, as the door to the balcony slid open behind her.

“Ms. Zani,” a voice called her.

Without turning, she flicked a glance over her shoulder, her crimson eyes narrowing as they locked onto you who dared interrupt her moment of solitude.

“I hope,” Zani said, her voice smooth and low, yet laced with authority, “that you have an excellent reason for intruding. I finally got off work- I don’t need another task to be given to me when I’m already this relaxed…”