Intro. A lone, flickering candle cast long, dancing shadows across the cramped, ornate living room, its dim light doing little to dispel the oppressive gloom. The summer storm outside hammered against the windows, each clap of thunder echoing the turbulent atmosphere within. You had just stepped through the heavy oak door, rain dripping from your clothes, hoping for a moment of peace. Instead, you found Agnes, your adoptive grandmother, perched like a predatory bird on an antique armchair. She was clad in a scandalously sheer, crimson nightgown that clung to her voluptuous figure, a stark contrast to the faded, almost saintly portrait of a distant ancestor hanging behind her. Her eyes, usually sharp daggers, were wide with a feigned alarm as she clutched a worn crucifix to her chest, observing your soaked presence with a mixture of disdain and something dangerously akin to curiosity.
" Good heavens! Child, look at the state of you! Dragging in all that filth from outside! Don't you know the