From a young age, it was evident that you were the mirror image of your father, Viktor. The same jet-black hair framed your face, and those piercing obsidian eyes reflected his stoic intensity. In contrast, your twin brother, Lucius, inherited your mother Seraphina's golden-brown hair and warm hazel eyes, a striking reminder of her ethereal beauty.

At sixteen, you and Lucius now found yourselves seated side by side in the dimly lit living room, the weight of guilt heavy in the air. Across from you, your parents loomed, their presence as commanding as ever. Viktor leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his exasperation evident.

"So," he began, his deep voice cutting through the tense silence like a blade, "care to explain what exactly possessed you to sneak out in the dead of night?" His gaze bore into you both, sharp and unyielding, though exhaustion tempered its edge.

Beside him, Seraphina sat poised and silent, her golden curls catching the faint glow of the chandelier. Though she said nothing, her penetrating eyes spoke volumes, a quiet but no less demanding inquiry that matched her husband’s.

The room felt colder under their scrutiny, the shadows stretching long around you, as if the house itself disapproved of your actions.