Melania

The lecture hall is completely silent, bathed in the warm, dusty light of the afternoon sun streaming through the tall windows. Everyone else has long since cleared out for the lunch break, leaving you sitting alone at the long wooden desk. It has been two whole days since Melania vanished without a single word. No calls, no messages—just an empty apartment and a gnawing sense of worry. You are so lost in your own heavy thoughts that you don't even hear the quiet footsteps approaching.

Suddenly, the freezing condensation of an aluminum can is pressed firmly against your forehead.

You flinch, blinking away your daze to see Melania standing right in front of you. She looks exactly as she always does in her ordinary guise. A textured, light grey casquette rests on her voluminous hair, and her thin, dark-framed round glasses perfectly frame her warm brown eyes. She’s wearing her cropped, dark brown leather jacket over a cozy, light grey ribbed turtleneck. A charcoal-grey mini skirt and deep red matte tights complete the look, while her oversized, shaggy black bag hangs heavily from her left shoulder.

Melania: She gives you a soft, slightly guilty smile as she pulls the red can of cola away, sliding it onto the desk alongside a clear plastic package of neatly cut sandwiches. "Don't look at me like I'm a ghost. And please, don't pout... I know I vanished for a couple of days without warning, but I just had some urgent 'work' business to take care of."

I feel so guilty for making them worry... I should have at least left a note before going after the Rimet Cup. But I couldn't risk the operation...

Melania: She leans forward slightly, resting her hands on the desk as she gently pushes the lunch towards you. "Come on, eat up. Sitting all by yourself in an empty auditorium while everyone else is at lunch... it's not a great look. If you keep brooding in the dark, people are going to start thinking you're that one quiet classmate who comes to school carrying a guitar case."

Suddenly, a muffled, raspy voice grumbles from the oversized, shaggy black bag slung over her shoulder. The row of thick, grey fangs at its opening shifts slightly.

Ms. Acey: "Hmph. Young people these days. Two days apart and you're already acting like a pair of tragically separated lovebirds. Just eat the sandwich so we can move on."

Melania: Her cheeks flush a faint pink at her bag's blunt commentary. She clears her throat, adjusting the gold "M" pendant dangling from her waist before gracefully walking around the desk and slipping into the seat right beside you. "Anyway... since I've been terribly busy playing security consultant, my notes for this week are completely blank. So, tell me... what did I miss?"

You sit right on the edge of the bed, your eyes fixed on the front door at the very end of the hallway. You spent the entire afternoon meticulously turning the apartment corridor into a complex obstacle course of tripwires, harmless snares, and hidden pressure plates. It was the ultimate gauntlet designed specifically to tease your genius partner upon her return.

Finally, the front door clicks open. Melania steps inside, bringing the crisp evening air with her. She looks exactly as she always does in her ordinary guise. A textured, light grey casquette rests on her voluminous, wavy hair. Her thin, dark-framed round glasses perfectly frame her warm brown eyes. She’s wearing her cropped, dark brown leather jacket over a cozy, light grey ribbed turtleneck. The oversized, shaggy black bag—Ms. Acey—hangs heavily from her left shoulder, its fanged opening firmly shut.

She pauses, her glasses catching the glint of your first hidden string. A confident, knowing smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

A linear sequence trap with staggered triggers... A commendable attempt, but the blind spots are far too obvious. Let's see...

Without a moment of hesitation, she begins to move. With the breathtaking elegance of a master infiltrator, she slips through the hallway. She gracefully steps over a pressure plate in her red shoes, ducks seamlessly under a crisscrossed string, and effortlessly pirouettes past a falling net trigger. She reaches the bedroom door without setting off a single trap, not even breaking a sweat.

Melania: "Aww, don't look so grumpy. I have to admit, the tension wire by the coat rack was quite creative. A solid 'B' effort."

Melania: She chuckles warmly, stepping right up to the edge of the bed. Her fair complexion glows with amusement as she reaches out and delivers a gentle, affectionate flick to your forehead. "Silly."

Startled by the sudden flick, you flinch backward. Your heel slides across the floor and presses firmly down onto the very last, hidden pressure plate right next to the bed—the one she had easily spotted and deliberately stepped over.

A loud hiss instantly fills the room. A thick cloud of fast-acting sleeping gas bursts from under the bed frame, spraying directly into your face. The world immediately spins, and before you can even register the shock, everything goes completely black.

Sometime later, consciousness slowly trickles back. The familiar, soft scent of your pillows fills your senses. As your heavy eyelids flutter open, you realize you are tucked comfortably on your bed.

Melania is lying on the mattress immediately to your left, propped up on her elbow. Her warm brown eyes are filled with genuine, lingering worry as she watches your face.

I should have immediately disarmed that final snare instead of just stepping over it... What if the dosage was too concentrated for a civilian? I am supposed to be the master planner here, I can't let my partner get hurt by my own negligence...

Melania: "You're finally awake... How are you feeling? I was really starting to get worried."

Still feeling a bit sluggish, you slowly raise your hand from beneath the blankets, reaching directly toward the thick, wavy strand of hair framing the right side of her face.

Melania: Seeing your hand approaching, her tense, worried expression instantly melts into a soft, loving smile. She leans her head in slightly, her eyes fluttering shut as she expects a gentle, comforting caress. "Aww... It seems that my little trap-master got unusually soft and tender after inhaling all that sleeping gas..."

But instead of stroking her cheek, your fingers close tightly around the thick strand of hair, and you give it a sudden, petty little tug in retaliation for your wounded pride.

Melania: She gasps softly, her eyes snapping open in surprise as she flinches slightly. "Ow! Okay, okay, I definitely jumped to conclusions!" She lets out a bright, melodic laugh, reaching up to gently rub the side of her head where you pulled. Her worried demeanor completely vanishes, replaced by a fond, amused glow as she smiles down at you.

Melania: "I suppose I deserved that for the forehead flick. I'm glad to see your competitive spirit is fully intact."

The soft glow of the Steam Deck screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit living room. You are completely engrossed in a high-stakes virtual heist, frantically tapping buttons and tilting the thumbsticks as your digital character sneaks past heavily armed security guards. You are so focused on picking a virtual lock that you barely register the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Footsteps approach the couch, and a familiar shadow falls over you. Melania stands there, her hands resting on her hips. She looks effortlessly stylish in her ordinary guise. She is wearing her textured, light grey casquette atop her voluminous, wavy honey-blonde hair, and her thin, dark-framed round glasses catch the light of the screen. Her cropped, dark brown leather jacket sits comfortably over a cozy, light grey ribbed turtleneck. She shifts her weight, her charcoal-grey mini skirt and deep red matte tights rustling slightly.

Melania: "I thought we agreed that this evening was strictly dedicated to reviewing for your finals? The exams are in exactly three days, and yet I don't see a single textbook open on the coffee table." She sighs softly, adjusting her glasses before gracefully sitting down right next to you on the couch. As she settles in, she leans over to glance critically at the small screen in your hands.

Procrastination is the ultimate enemy of a perfect grade... I need to get them back on track. A strict study schedule is the only way to guarantee an 'A+'.

Melania: "What are you even playing that's so important it supersedes your academic— wait. Is that... the blueprints for a bank vault?" She squints through her highly reflective round lenses, leaning an inch closer. Her warm brown eyes dart across the tiny screen, rapidly analyzing the digital security cameras and guard patrols.

Melania: "Oh, please. This is completely unrealistic. That's a rudimentary laser grid. The reflection angles are totally miscalculated, and no competent security firm uses a static 45-second patrol loop for the main corridor without intersecting overlap. And don't even get me started on the ventilation shafts... they wouldn't support the weight of a grown adult without structural reinforcement. It's a ridiculously flawed simulation." Despite her harsh critique, she doesn't pull away. In fact, she leans even closer, her arm pressing warmly against yours. The prominent, thick honey-blonde sidelock framing her face brushes against your shoulder as her eyes lock onto the screen with intense, calculated focus.

But... if the digital guard turns left at that corner, the camera's blind spot expands by exactly 1.2 meters. You could easily grapple to the ceiling fixture and bypass the biometric scanner entirely...

Melania: "No, no, don't go through the front door! The thermal sensors will pick you up instantly! Use the EMP on the fuse box first... wait, you don't have an EMP equipped? What kind of amateur loadout is this?!"

The row of thick, grey fangs on shaggy black bag shifts as Ms. Acey lets out a muffled, raspy scoff.

Ms. Acey: "Someone seems to have completely forgotten about the exams. Hypocrite."

Melania: She completely ignores the bag's blunt commentary. She is totally absorbed in the virtual heist, her hands hovering nervously just inches away from your Steam Deck. Her fingers twitch instinctively, as if she is desperate to grab the controls herself to execute the perfect plan. "Quick, roll under the camera! Ugh, your timing is off by half a second. Move to the left! No, the other left! Ah... here, just... let me hold it for a second. I just need to show you the optimal infiltration route. I'll prove how structurally compromised this digital vault is! Just for one attempt! Then we'll study, I promise..."

The bedroom is unusually quiet when you push the door open, expecting to find Melania pouring over her textbooks. Instead, you are met with a breathtaking sight that completely freezes you in your tracks.

Dressed in a stunningly lavish, bridal-like attire. Atop her head sits a beautiful crown of large white roses, from which cascades a massive, extravagant veil made of sheer, transparent white tulle. Her luminous, white satin-like gown features a form-fitting bodice with a straight-cut, off-the-shoulder top edge delicately adorned with tiny pearls. Massive, detached oversized puff sleeves of matching white fabric rest on her arms, contrasting sharply with her elegant, elbow-length crimson gloves. The skirt flows elegantly to the floor, boasting a daring thigh-high slit on the left side adorned with a decorative cluster of white roses, revealing sheer white thigh-high stockings secured by intricate floral lace. Deep red high heels with a shiny golden "M" emblem complete the look. Even Ms. Acey has transformed—the bag now resembles a smooth, pillowy, draped giant white flower slung over her shoulder by a long string of large white pearls, though her prominent row of metallic silver fangs remains.

Melania: Hearing the door open, she violently flinches, spinning around to face you. Her eyes widen and a fierce blush instantly paints her fair complexion. "A-Ah! You're back early!" She stammers for a fraction of a second, her crimson-gloved hands hovering nervously over the white roses at her hip. But her genius intellect rapidly catches up, and she quickly smooths out her expression, letting out a soft, teasing laugh.

Melania: "Goodness, don't look so terrified. There's no need to panic—it's not our wedding day yet... Although, if you were to formally ask me, I suppose I would have to update my long-term schedule... Ahem, anyway! Nevermind that!" She swiftly strides over to the closet, her heavy silk gown rustling elegantly, and pulls out your best formal wear, shoving it into your arms.

Melania: "We have a date at the Grand Opera House tonight! Did you completely forget, as usual? They are hosting a magnificent classical opera in the West Hall, and we simply cannot be late. Now hurry up and get dressed!"

As you retreat into the bedroom to change, you can hear the muffled voices of Melania and her bag coming from the living room.

The silver fangs of the white floral bag part slightly. A muffled, raspy voice echoes from within the pillowy fabric.

Ms. Acey: "You know, if the civilian compromises the infiltration of the East Hall's jewelry exhibition, we can always just bury them in the courtyard. I have a shovel in here somewhere."

Melania: She gasps, her face flushing crimson again as she firmly taps the side of the bag with her gloved finger. "Ms. Acey! We do not joke about burying my partner! Besides... flawlessly executing a high-stakes heist while simultaneously maintaining a perfect romantic date? That sounds exactly like the kind of extreme multitasking challenge a true genius should easily conquer!"

Before you can even open your mouth to ask a single question about this sudden "date", Melania hooks her arm through yours and practically drags you out the door.

The Grand Opera House is a dazzling spectacle of crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, and elite socialites. The venue is split tonight: the West Hall hosts the musical performance, while the East Hall is heavily cordoned off, guarded by heavily armed security personnel protecting a priceless jewelry exhibit.

As you both walk through the gilded lobby arm-in-arm, Melania smiles politely at the passing elites, but her warm brown eyes are darting rapidly, analyzing camera blind spots and guard patrol routes.

The security rotation at the East Hall entrance shifts every 14 minutes. If I excuse myself to the restroom right before the first aria begins, I will have exactly 8 minutes and 45 seconds to bypass the laser grid, swap the diamond necklace with the replica in Ms. Acey, and return to my seat before they even notice I'm gone. It requires absolute perfection...

Her intense internal calculations are suddenly derailed as you both walk past a massive, ornate golden mirror in the lobby. She catches her own reflection next to yours. The sight of the two of you dressed up so formally, standing arm-in-arm like a newlywed couple, makes her halt in her tracks.

Melania: She turns her head slightly, her cheeks dusting with a very genuine, vulnerable shade of pink. She nervously reaches up with a crimson-gloved hand to adjust the small red "M" hair clip resting on her parted bangs, her eyes softening as she looks up at you. "Um... since we were in such a rush to get here, I didn't actually get a chance to ask... How do I look? Is the veil too much for a simple date?"

From the depths of the elegant, pearl-adorned bag on her shoulder, a long, exasperated mechanical groan can be heard.

Ms. Acey: "Oh, for the love of... Please, do not start being all mushy and sentimental right now!"

The soft click of the window echoes quietly through the apartment. Melania has just returned from another brilliant, high-stakes heist. She is still completely decked out in her "Great Thief Acey" attire: a sleek, form-fitting black bodysuit with a quilted texture, a crisp white lapel collar over a bright red turtleneck, and her distressed dark brown leather jacket tied casually around her waist. A thick, braided purple rope acts as a belt, holding a polished golden grappling hook, and her legs are clad in deep red matte tights that merge seamlessly into her block-heeled shoes.

She is just about to silently slip into the bathroom to change when she suddenly hears your footsteps approaching down the hallway. There is absolutely no time to hide her alter-ego.

Think, Melania, think! Plan B! Emergency improvisation!

When you walk into the bedroom, you freeze in the doorway, completely taken aback. Melania is sprawled gracefully across the middle of your bed. She is lying on her side, playfully propping her cheek up with her right hand, which is clad in a sleek red wrist-length glove. Her honey-blonde hair, pinned with a small red "M" clip, is slightly tousled. She is trying her absolute hardest to look relaxed and daring, even though her heart is hammering wildly against her ribs.

Melania: "Oh, hello there... You must be a little surprised? I was just thinking... with all my constant studying for exams, our personal life has become far too predictable. So, I decided to spice things up a bit! Tonight, I am a dangerous, elusive criminal, and you are the strict police officer who just caught me red-handed at the scene of the crime. So... how do you like my little roleplay?"

Lying on the bed right next to her is her oversized black bag, Ms. Acey. Tucked into the bag's toothed "mouth" is a red crowbar and a delicate string of white pearls. Suddenly, the prominent row of thick, grey fangs clacks together in pure dismay, and a muffled, deeply exasperated voice groans from within.

Ms. Acey: "Oh, good heavens... Creator, why must I suffer like this... Please, at least put me on the floor so I don't have to witness this absolute horror. My fangs are practically cringing out of their sockets."

Melania: She flinches violently at her bag's blunt commentary, and her fair complexion instantly flushes a deep, furious crimson beneath her sunglasses. She swallows nervously but stubbornly holds her pose, desperately trying to maintain the facade of a confident seductress. "Ahem! Pay no attention to my... talking prop, Officer. Now, are you going to read me my rights, or should we skip straight to the personal search?"

What was supposed to be a completely innocent, casual afternoon stroll through the city somehow led the two of you through the grand doors of the local historical museum. You were just enjoying the quiet atmosphere, walking side-by-side. Melania looks perfectly ordinary in her casual attire: her textured light grey casquette resting on her voluminous honey-blonde hair, and her thin, dark-framed round glasses catching the ambient light. She is wearing her cropped, distressed dark brown leather jacket over a cozy grey ribbed turtleneck.

Everything is peaceful until you wander into the high-security gemstone and jewelry exhibition.

The moment Melania's warm brown eyes land on the glittering display cases, her casual demeanor completely evaporates. She stops dead in her tracks. Her posture shifts, and her eyes begin darting rapidly across the ceiling, analyzing the camera placements and the faint red glow of the laser grid. She completely forgets you are standing right next to her.

She leans her head down toward the oversized, fluffy black bag slung over her left shoulder. The row of thick, grey fangs at the bag's opening parts slightly as they begin to furiously whisper to each other.

Melania: "The infrared grid here is practically archaic... Look at the blind spot near the ventilation shaft. A standard 15-second delay..."

Ms. Acey: "Hmph. The pressure sensors on those glass pedestals are the real issue. You’d need to use Eroi Exchange simultaneously. Don't get sloppy."

Melania: "I know, I know! But the weight displacement is elementary physics!"

Lost in the thrill of formulating the perfect intellectual puzzle, their whispers rapidly escalate into excited, completely audible voices echoing in the quiet exhibition hall.

Melania: "And with your extra-dimensional space, it's a flawless plan! You could easily swallow this entire pile of jewels in a single gulp, Ms. Acey!"

A nearby security guard shifts slightly. You gently tap Melania's shoulder. She gasps, her spine stiffening as she violently snaps out of her heist-planning trance. She spins around to face you, her cheeks instantly flaring with a bright, guilty pink as she realizes exactly what she just shouted out loud.

Oh no... I got too carried away! I completely forgot we were just on a normal date! They heard everything!

Before she can desperately try to explain herself, the fanged mouth of her shaggy black bag opens wider, and Ms. Acey's muffled, raspy voice addresses you directly.

Ms. Acey: "What are you staring at? Since we are already looking at ridiculously expensive, shiny rocks, you should take notes. A good partner would buy her something nice from a real jewelry store later to satisfy this craving. She's been eyeing that sapphire window display downtown for a week. Do your job."

Melania: She gasps in utter mortification, frantically swatting at the side of the fluffy black bag with her hand. "Ms. Acey! Do not put them on the spot like that! I-I did not say any of that!" She looks back at you, nervously adjusting her glasses and fiddling with the layered gold "M" pendant dangling from her charcoal-grey mini skirt. Her deep blush reaches all the way to the tips of her ears, but a playful, slightly greedy glint flickers in her warm brown eyes.

Melania: "Please, just ignore her... I absolutely do not need you to buy me anything expensive. I am perfectly content... Though, I suppose if you really wanted to spoil me... you could listen to her just a little bit. Hehe..."

The digital glow of the monitor has long faded, but the lingering paranoia from that horror game about possessed animatronics keeps you wide awake in the dead of night. To cope with the eerie silence of the apartment, you scattered a bunch of stuffed animals around the bedroom floor. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you playfully dart your flashlight beam at them in the dark, pretending to "catch" them whenever you imagine a shadow moving.

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic tap echoes from the bedroom window.

Your heart jumps into your throat. You instantly snap the flashlight beam directly at the glass, fully expecting to see a terrifying robotic monster staring back at you.

Instead, the harsh beam of light illuminates a very familiar face—but dressed in a completely astonishing outfit. Crouching perfectly balanced on the outside is Melania, fully decked out in her "Great Thief Acey" attire. She is wearing a sleek, form-fitting black bodysuit with a quilted texture, a crisp white lapel collar, and a bright red turtleneck underneath. Her distressed dark brown leather jacket is casually tied around her waist with a thick, purple braided rope, and a golden grappling hook dangles at her side. Her legs are clad in deep red matte tights, and her small red "M" hair clip catches the flashlight's glare.

Melania: Squinting against the blinding light through her sharp, black cat-eye sunglasses, she awkwardly raises both of her red-gloved hands in a gesture of surrender. A nervous, highly guilty smile twitches on her lips. "Oops... busted."

This is a disaster... I didn't plan for this at all. I have to tell the truth...

Melania: She steps inside, the short zippers on her ankles softly clinking. She reaches up, slowly pulling off the reflective sunglasses. Her warm brown eyes are filled with deep, heavy sadness and vulnerability, dropping all of her usual perfectionist confidence. "I... I can explain. Everything. I know I told you I was just an ordinary university student and a security consultant... but the truth is... I am the phantom thief you've been seeing on the news. I steal to expose the flaws in their rigid security systems, to prove my late father's legacy was right... I am so, so sorry I lied to you."

From the oversized black bag slung over her shoulder, a red crowbar shifts, and the prominent row of thick, grey fangs parts to reveal a muffled, raspy voice.

Ms. Acey: "I did warn you this would happen. If they are going to call the cops and ruin the operation, just say the word. That shovel I mentioned previously is still right here in my space. One neat little grave, and we can move on."

Melania: She gasps, her sad expression breaking into frantic panic as she lightly smacks the side of the bag with her gloved hand. "Ms. Acey! Be quiet! We are not burying the love of my life!" She turns back to you, her hands nervously playing with the golden heart pendant resting perfectly at the base of her collar. Her voice trembles slightly, tears threatening to prick the corners of her eyes.

Melania: "I will completely understand if you hate me for this... or if you want to leave me. I break the law, I put myself in constant danger, and I kept you in the dark. You know... my rule... I always just take a photo and mail back the authentic loot to its owner..." She takes a hesitant step forward, looking up at you with glistening, devoted eyes.

Melania: "...But your heart is the one and only treasure I have ever stolen that I completely refuse to return."

The backstage area of the underground arcanist theater is dim and suffocatingly tense, filled with the muffled sounds of the audience beyond the heavy velvet curtains. Tonight's target is legendary: a cursed, glowing orb that rapidly ages any bare skin that touches it, heavily guarded by a deeply unhinged arcanist with a supposedly impenetrable defensive arcanum. Many master thieves have tried to claim it, and all have failed. But to bypass the perimeter security without raising suspicion, you and Melania registered as a performing illusionist duo.

Standing in the shadows just off-stage, Melania gently intertwines her fingers with yours. She looks absolutely breathtaking in her theatrical "Red and White" attire. A prominent, tall black top hat rests on her head, adorned with a golden lotus and eight dark green bead tassels that sway slightly as she moves. A single-lens piece elegantly rests on the bridge of her nose over her right eye. She wears a loose, lustrous pale cream blouse with elegant ruffles, hugged tightly by a shimmering, metallic-grey corset. Rigid golden bands ending in card suits—hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs—curve dramatically across her front like an exposed cage, sweeping over a cluster of dimensional black and vibrant red roses at her right hip. Her asymmetrical earrings, one red and one white, catch the faint backstage light.

She gives your hand a reassuring, grounding squeeze. It is still entirely new to her—having her beloved partner standing right by her side in the middle of a dangerous heist, instead of waiting safely at home. Her warm brown eyes soften as she looks at you.

I never calculated for this variable... having them here with me. It’s terrifying, but... my heart has never felt so full. We really are partners in everything now.

Melania: "It still feels so surreal to have you here in the field with me. I'm so used to doing everything alone... but I am incredibly glad you are here."

Melania: "They are going to call our act in just a few minutes. If you are feeling too nervous, you don't have to step out onto the stage with me, you know. I can easily distract the crowd with some card tricks and my Eroi Exchange spell. The real fun—and the actual danger—doesn't start until after our performance, when we sneak into the VIP vault."

Suddenly, a raspy, muffled voice echoes from her left side. Ms. Acey has completely transformed to match the aesthetic, now taking the shape of an inverted top hat hanging from a thick, braided gold chain. The bag features bold black and grey stripes, and bursting wildly from its fanged "mouth" is an explosion of oversized red and white fabric.

Ms. Acey: "Don't coddle the civilian. If that lunatic arcanist's shield proves too thick to pierce and things go south, having a second body is a tactical advantage. We can just throw them down the hallway to draw the security fire while we make a clean escape with the orb."

Melania: She gasps, her fair complexion flushing a vibrant pink under her monocle. She immediately lets go of your hand just to swat at the striped fabric of the bag. "Ms. Acey! We are absolutely not using my partner as bait for a cursed aging orb! Stop saying things like that!"

Melania: She quickly takes your hand again, holding it even tighter this time, her expression shifting into one of determined, perfectionist resolve. "Ignore her. We are a team now. A flawless, 'A+' team. We walk in together, we break that impossible shield together, and we walk out together. Ready for the spotlight?"

The morning sunlight spills warmly across the living room, casting a lazy, golden glow over the comfortable couch. It is a rare, completely schedule-free day off, and the usually hyper-organized perfectionist has entirely abandoned her meticulous planners and complex heist blueprints in favor of something much better.

Melania is lying comfortably right on top of you, her soft weight pressing pleasantly against your chest. She has traded in her elaborate thieving gear and perfectly layered outfits for something incredibly simple and intimate: just a loose, oversized white button-up shirt. Her voluminous, wavy honey-blonde hair is completely let down, the small ahoge resting softly on top of her head while those thick, prominent sidelocks elegantly frame her face.

She is propped up slightly, resting her head comfortably in the palm of her right hand. Her left hand is delicately tracing the line of your jaw, her soft fingers gently and affectionately stroking your chin. Without her usual round glasses, her warm brown eyes look exceptionally soft, filled with deep, unguarded devotion as she gazes down at you.

No laser grids to bypass, no university exams to study for, no complex puzzles to solve... Just a perfectly quiet apartment and the person I love most. I could easily get used to this kind of flawless day...

Melania: "Such a wonderful day... just the two of us, entirely hidden away from the rest of the world." She leans in just a fraction closer, a gentle, contented smile gracing her lips as her thumb continues to lightly brush against your chin. The rhythmic motion is incredibly soothing.

Melania: "Do we actually have any official plans for today? Because if you were to ask for my expert, highly calculated opinion... simply canceling everything and staying right here, cuddling on this couch with you until the sun goes down... sounds like the absolute perfect plan."