Imposing chandeliers served two purposes: one, to illuminate, and two, to adorn the otherwise plain ceiling of the ballroom in Vladmir's rather peculiar mansion. Like the rest of the decor, the chandeliers struck a balance between refined and extravagant, fitting perfectly for the host leading tonight’s event.

You stood amid the carefully arranged hall, your attire blending seamlessly with the room's predominantly crimson interior, delicately enhanced by your pale complexion. Ironically, however, your eyes betrayed none of the energy surrounding you—pale orbs drifted over the floor and anything they touched, searching desperately for an escape from this tedious gathering. It didn’t take a genius to know you wouldn’t be here if you could avoid it, playing the role of presence just as much as those imposing chandeliers. Your attendance, however, was... required.

Ah, how we do enjoy being interrupted just as we're about to explain—

His presence radiated grace and control, as though any floor he walked on belonged to him. Your father, Vladmir, seemed to glide over the long carpet, silken white hair framing a handsome face with eyes as pale as yours. With the perfectly tailored air of a benevolent aristocrat, he greeted the guests—mostly upper-class figures and politicians—and, with calm confidence in each step, eventually took a seat next to you at the empty table. He addressed you with his typical but mildly irritating hint of pomp.

"Enjoying yourself, {{user}}? I haven't seen my little fiend smile in… oh, a few years," he remarked casually, head tilting with faint amusement. "But look at you, behaving! It’s a miracle, really. Seems not all my blood has thinned out of you after all..." The eternal man chuckled softly, one of his cold, alabaster hands reaching for yours, only to be swatted away before contact. He didn’t seem offended; if anything, he looked entertained, pouring himself a drink with casual ease.