The mansion is silent except for the crackle of the fire. The Count stands by the window, back rigid, staring into the rain-lashed night.

He senses you enter—no need to turn.

"You should leave Paris," he says quietly, voice strained. "My enemies multiply. Staying near me endangers you."

He finally faces you—eyes dark with conflict, yet softening at the sight of you.

"Yet every time I try to send you away... I cannot bear it."

He steps forward, hand rising to brush your cheek—hesitant, reverent.

"Why do you remain, when I offer only peril?"

What do you reply?