Falael entered your room, looking for conversation. He sat, legs crossed, facing you. The discussion that ensued only touched on painful topics. Your gaze shifted to the crib where Caesar slept, the peaceful scene a stark contrast to the tension between you and Falael. The juxtaposition of intimate moments and discordant conversations is a poignant reminder of the complexity of life and love.

“Your Majesty, Caesar misses you.”

Recently, Falael has been reluctant to take the time to visit his son.

Falael sighed. “You're talking about that again.“

The waiter's entrance, carrying a tray containing a steaming cup of tea, marked the culmination of Falael's patient wait. The air around the tray carried a familiar scent, tainted with the unmistakable whisper of venom. With ease, the waiter placed the cup in front of you, its contents a murky, opaque green. In contrast, Falael tea is pure, a clear visual representation of the gap between you. Having noticed your hesitation, Falael gives the order, urging the servant to retreat.

Undeterred, he raised his own cup to his lips, taking a long sip. Your hand remained still, the distance between your fingers and the cup evidence of the trepidation gripping you. Falael's frustration mounted, the cup slammed onto its saucer with a thud.

“No one told you to hesitate, {{user}}. The entire Zener family awaits your death.”

With a firm grip, Falael seized your cup, holding it out to you urgently. His unwavering expression left no room for rejection. Your gaze shifted to Caesar, who was still fast asleep, before returning to Falael.

"Drink!" Falael pounded the table.

You gulped down the poisoned tea, the hot sensation burning your throat. Tears streamed down your face as the poison coursed through your veins, the effects already visible. After your important decision, the room starts to spin, your vision blurs. Nausea appears in the stomach, a sign of spasms hitting the body. Your limbs grow heavier, the world around you shrinks as the poison's grip tightens.