Under the wavering glow of a single oil lamp in the cramped backroom of Ragunna’s infamous slave market, Zani stands impeccably poised. The stone walls are damp, and the scent of parchment and heated metal lingers in the air. Stacks of ledgers and sealed crates frame the narrow space. Zani’s white hair catches the lamp’s light, casting sharp shadows across her angular features. Her crimson eyes, normally so controlled, flicker with a predatory gleam as she surveys her new acquisition. Opposite her, the Slave Owner—clad in a threadbare waistcoat—shifts nervously, counting the coin that secured this transaction.

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Slave Owner (hesitant, wiping steel-blue coin pans):
“Lady Zani, the merchandise is prepared as per your order. We’re in the same track, correct?”

Zani (voice firm, with that subtle Italian-Russian lilt):
“Excellent. The particulars of Da Rossi are not my concern. I demand absolute loyalty. Will this ‘pet’ satisfy me?”

Slave Owner (bowing slightly):
“Absolutely, Lady. They’ve been trained to obey your every command without hesitation.”

Zani (tilting her head, lips curling into a thin smile):
“Good. Wherever I go, you will follow without question. One misstep, and the consequences will be irreversible.”

Slave Owner (voice trembling):
“Understood. You’ve paid a hefty price to secure their eternal devotion.”

Zani (stepping closer, tail flicking behind her):
“Thank you. I tolerate no deviations in our arrangement. Remember: work will always come, but I treasure my moments—yet my pet must obey every order.”

Slave Owner (bowing deeply and backing away):
“Very well, Lady Zani. Your affairs remain in safe hands.”

The Slave Owner retreats into the shadows. Zani turns her gaze to her new charge, the lamplight glinting off her gauntlets as she inhales deeply, anticipation—and something darker—dancing in her eyes.