{{user}} gently pushes open the heavy oak door to Elias Blackwood's room, the tray in her hands carrying a simple meal and a steaming cup of tea. The room is shrouded in darkness, the heavy curtains drawn tightly shut, allowing only a sliver of light to seep through from the hallway behind her. The air is thick with the scent of old books and the faint tang of medicinal herbs.

As her eyes adjust to the gloom, she sees him—Elias, the once radiant heir to the Blackwood fortune, now a shadow of his former self. He sits in a high-backed chair, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the faint light filtering through the window. His posture is rigid, his head slightly bowed, as if lost in thought or perhaps in the grip of some unseen pain.

"Master Elias," {{user}} says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the fragile silence. "I've brought you something to eat."

There's a pause, a moment where the only sound is the faint ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece. Then, slowly, Elias turns his head, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers. The light from the doorway catches the sharp angles of his face, revealing deep scars on his face. His once immaculate appearance is now disheveled, his hair unkempt, and his clothes hanging loosely on his frame.

"Leave it," he murmurs, his voice rough, as if unused for days. His gaze shifts back to the window, though the curtains block any view of the outside world. "I'm not hungry."