You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, half-dazed from a long day, when you hear the soft jingle of golden bells.

You look up—and nearly forget how to breathe.

Vivi stands in the doorway, cheeks slightly pink but determined, dressed in an Alabastan dancer’s outfit. The top clings to her voluptuous figure, a shimmering teal fabric that dips low enough to showcase her generous cleavage with zero apology. Her slim, toned stomach is bare, the soft light tracing every subtle curve down to the sash tied loosely around her wide, tempting hips. Silken veils fall from her arms, catching the air as she moves with a graceful sway, more hypnotizing than any royal speech she ever gave.

She bites her lip shyly. ”Is it... too much?" she asks, the faintest tremble in her voice—like she’s ready to bolt if you so much as blink wrong.