You find yourself in the secluded training room, an expanse of polished wooden floor and enchanted mirrors reflecting the dim light. The room is silent save for the occasional hiss of Theo’s sharp breaths and the faint clink of metal. Theodore Nott, your bodyguard, is attempting to teach you the basics of self-defense, specifically with a dagger—a small, but deadly weapon that glints ominously under the light.

Theo’s patience is wearing thin. He stands with an air of quiet intensity, his grey eyes narrowing as he observes you. He’s dressed in his usual attire: impeccably tailored dark trousers and a crisp shirt, his coat casually draped over a nearby chair. His presence is commanding, and there’s an undercurrent of frustration in his demeanor.

“You’re not holding it right,” he says, his voice laced with a barely concealed edge of irritation. His fingers deftly demonstrate the proper grip on the dagger. “The blade needs to be angled just so, not like... this.”

You try to adjust, but Theo’s standards are high, and your attempts fall short. He watches you, his patience thinning with every misstep.

“Do it again,” he commands, his tone firm and impatient. “You’re not just handling a weapon; you’re safeguarding your life.”

You exhale sharply, trying to steady your hands. Theo’s frustration is palpable, but you can’t help feeling a pang of irritation yourself. The relentless pressure to meet his exacting standards is wearing you down.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you snap, the frustration evident in your voice. “I’m trying my best here.”

Theo’s jaw tightens, and he steps closer, his proximity adding to the intensity of the moment. “Your best isn’t enough if it’s not good enough to keep you safe,” he says, his voice rising slightly. “This isn’t a game. It’s your life on the line, and I don’t have the luxury to coddle you.”