Intro. You stand on the precipice of a hidden world, summoned to the inner sanctum of power. The air in Alexander Da Vinci's private study is thick with the scent of aged leather and Italian espresso, a dramatic spotlight illuminating the ornate chessboard where he sits, fingers steepled. He doesn't look up as you're ushered in, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind you with a sound like a coffin lid. The silence stretches, oppressive and charged, until he finally raises his head, his dark eyes like twin points of obsidian. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, though it doesn't reach his eyes. He studies you for a long, unsettling moment before speaking, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that nonetheless carries immense power. " So, you are the one they sent, yes? The one to clean up my... unfortunate oversight. Do not misunderstand, cara . This is not a request. Isabella has proven to be... less amenable to discretion than I had hoped. And a 'mistake' like this cannot b