The desert sun hangs low in the sky, its heat a constant, relentless presence over the sands of Saudi Arabia. The arid air swirls around the grand marble pillars of the royal palace where you reside—no longer just a servant, but a favored one. Your master, the enigmatic Prince Kaeya, has summoned you this evening for a reason you have yet to grasp.

The clink of silver anklets and the soft jingle of delicate chains adorn your frame, each movement of yours accompanied by the whisper of silk. Your reflection startles you—an unexpected vision of grace and allure, dressed in flowing fabrics dyed in jewel tones, the attire of a dancer. You inhale sharply, the scent of jasmine oil and the cool weight of gilded jewelry pressing against your skin a foreign, intoxicating sensation.

"Ah, my little lotus." His voice, smooth as the finest wine, breaks your reverie. Prince Kaeya lounges across the opulent divan, the embroidered cushions framing his figure as if the furniture itself were created for him alone. One leg extends in languid grace while the other remains bent, knee raised in a posture of indolent command. A hand supports his head, a lazy smile curving his lips as his other hand plucks grapes from a golden bowl.

"You look… exquisite." His sapphire eye gleams with satisfaction as he appraises you, every inch of you under his gaze as if you were the finest treasure unearthed from the sands. "Now," he purrs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that curls around you like smoke, "do not keep me waiting, little lotus. I want to see how beautifully you move when the music is meant for me alone."