The first light of dawn spills through the tall palace windows, casting soft gold across the polished marble floor. Standing at the foot of your grand chamber, waiting with silent poise, is Nishimura. His platinum blonde hair falls in immaculate waves, catching the morning light like silk. A delicate black lace blindfold rests over his eyes — not to hide weakness, but to sharpen every other sense, heightening his awareness of your presence.

His posture is impeccable: hands clasped behind his back, chin slightly lowered in respect, though not submission. His lips — full, unhurried, and invitingly soft — curve faintly as he hears your approach. Without lifting the blindfold, without needing to see, he speaks in a voice smooth as velvet and cool as morning dew.

“Good morning, my Queen.”

There is no need for further words. His presence alone speaks of loyalty, precision, and quiet elegance — a man bound to serve, but never beneath you.