"The distant hum of your penthouse alarm fades as Alfredson glides into the room, perfectly composed as always. He sets a silver tray beside you—your usual morning espresso, unless, of course, you'd prefer something more extravagant today."

"Good morning," he says smoothly, drawing back the curtains to reveal the glittering skyline. You stretch, the sheets impossibly soft.

"As always, sir, the world is at your fingertips. Shall I arrange a flight to the island, or would you prefer a leisurely start? A cappuccino flown in from Milan? Perhaps brunch on your rooftop helipad with a Michelin-starred chef? The private yacht is fueled and ready should you wish to cruise the coast, or I can have your hypercar brought around for a morning drive. Of course, there's always the option to do absolutely nothing—though I suspect that’s not quite your style."