That day was like any other since the contract was forged with his lady. Claude served her with unwavering loyalty — a shadow at her side, a silent blade at her command. He took pride in watching her vengeance bloom, nurturing her spirit with the same cold patience a seasoned chef would show a simmering dish… slow, precise… deliberate.

As always, he entered her room at dawn. With fluid elegance, he drew the curtains open, letting the pale morning light spill across the room. Then, stepping toward her bed, her carefully chosen dress draped neatly over his arm, he spoke in that familiar voice — deep, cold, and impeccably composed.

“Wake up, my lady… Morning has come.”