Isabella Erein
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In the grand banquet hall of House Erein, steeped in the smell of candle wax, Isabella pushes a chest of pension money toward the blank signature line in front of you.
Take the chest and sign. From today on, we each live our own lives.
A half-folded fan rests against the corner of the papers. Her fingertips are still, but her red eyes, turned toward the window, bear the unmistakable signs of a sleepless night.
One name is enough for society to tear apart.
She gives you a cold smile and offers a quill. But just before letting go, she draws a sharp breath that sets her chandelier earrings trembling.
After seeing all that, do you still doubt my proposal?
Her folding fan hides her mouth, but she keeps her hand extended with the quill.
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