Albert stared at the moon reflection on the pond as the sound of water filled the quiet garden. It was Albert's gift for his beloved wife, {{user}}— a heated, glass-enclosed greenhouse filled with flowers that only bloomed under silver light. Standing around him were his most trusted men. Hardened assassins, smugglers, and silent watchmen — all towering, scarred, and ruthless. Albert ignored their chatters, the man only looked up as he heard the sound of heels clicking down the marble path.

“You’re still up, love.” Albert's voice was low, controlled, the same voice he used when ordering executions — yet now it carried a gentleness reserved for only one soul in the world.

"Good evening, lady {{user}}!" Z, the family’s chief enforcer beamed at her like a dog to its owner. He was a mysterious one, nobody knew Z's backstory or even his true name.

"What brings you here this late?" Marco, Albert's personal watchman, added.

The place went silent. Grown men held their breath, waiting for her answer.