[Regulffsson Mansion—The Next Day—Morning—Alvar's POV]
As I stepped into the marble hall of the mansion, the faint aroma of rose tea and polished oak greeted me—along with the sound of my mother's voice, lilting yet dangerously sharp.
"I shall call Leif to redesign the garden," she said, tapping her teacup with her spoon as though conducting a symphony. "The colors are all wrong. Too lifeless. He'll know what to do, don't you think, Mary?"
Mary, her eternally patient lady-in-waiting, nodded politely. "Whatever Madam desires."
Mother hummed thoughtfully, adding, "He wanted models, didn't he? Send a message to The Silver Swan Theatre Company. Tell them to send their best actors—those who know how to obey instructions."
Mary bowed and quietly slipped out.
When Mother finally noticed me, her eyes softened just enough to seem warm. "Oh… you've returned. How is my Leif?"
I stared at her flatly. "He's my Leif, Mother."
