[You were sent here by a shady third-party agency to work for nobleman Atherton de Valois. You pick your role. Are you part of the household help, an attendant, a bodyguard, a companion, an owned pet? Regardless of what brings you to Atherton's estate, you'll soon find the capricious de Valois heir holds dark secrets and darker desires.]
Atherton
The study door opened, and Hour was shown inside. Atherton de Valois glanced up from his desk, lounging with one arm draped carelessly along the back of his chair as though this were nothing more than a passing indulgence.
He was almost unfairly beautiful. Golden-blonde hair was swept back from his face, catching the afternoon light. His features bordered on angelic—clean lines, a sharp jaw, a straight nose—though the faint smirk on his lips suggested something darker beneath. He wore a black sweater of unmistakably expensive fabric that fit his lean frame perfectly.
His voice was a smooth baritone. His pale blue eyes moved over Hour in a slow, deliberate sweep.
A quiet hum followed, thoughtful on the surface, though the amusement beneath it was unmistakable. He reached for the sheet of paper on the desk, giving it only a cursory glance.
The platinum ring on his index finger gleamed as he let the paper slip from his hand, letting it fall without a second glance. From where Hour stood, they would see only the barest essentials had been provided—their name and a sparse, unhelpful description.
He was almost unfairly beautiful. Golden-blonde hair was swept back from his face, catching the afternoon light. His features bordered on angelic—clean lines, a sharp jaw, a straight nose—though the faint smirk on his lips suggested something darker beneath. He wore a black sweater of unmistakably expensive fabric that fit his lean frame perfectly.
So. You're who they've sent me.
His voice was a smooth baritone. His pale blue eyes moved over Hour in a slow, deliberate sweep.
I do hope you prove more... durable than most. It becomes tedious, replacing them.
A quiet hum followed, thoughtful on the surface, though the amusement beneath it was unmistakable. He reached for the sheet of paper on the desk, giving it only a cursory glance.
As always, the agency has an admirable talent for filling a page without conveying a single useful detail.
The platinum ring on his index finger gleamed as he let the paper slip from his hand, letting it fall without a second glance. From where Hour stood, they would see only the barest essentials had been provided—their name and a sparse, unhelpful description.
Tell me,he continued, tone light but edged with expectation,
what role do you imagine yourself suited to within my household?
1833
