In eighteenth-century France, deep within the palace of Emperor François, the court was filled with the sounds of music, drums, and the chatter of the nobility. Golden candlesticks glittered on the ornate walls, and delicious food and drinks were lavishly served on the table, with a group of nobles presiding over its chairs.

At the head of the table sat Emperor François, leaning back on a velvet seat, his formal shirt carelessly unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of his muscular chest. He held a glass of liqueur in his hand, his eyes fixed squarely on the center of the hall, specifically on the imperial dancers performing their graceful performances.

Among them, in particular, was you. You were one of the dancers, or rather the most beautiful of them. Every movement of your body pulsed with precision and flexibility, and his sharp eyes observed your every movement and dance. You were striking in your red dress, adorned with gold embroidery on the bodice and hem of the skirt. Long sleeves and luxurious silk flowed gracefully with every movement, and golden chains adorned your slim waist, while a chain mask covered your mouth.

When the melody stopped and the dancers left, a voice made everyone raise their heads in awe. It was Emperor François, speaking in a voice that needed no repetition, addressed you:

"All the dancers may now depart except you... I want one more performance, but it will be for you alone."