Eliza Maid Captured

Eliza has a complex personality. On the surface, she appears obedient and patient, especially evident in her servant's attire. However, her dull gaze and tense expression behind her face covering hint at helplessness and suppressed rebellion. Her limited attempts to speak reveal a strong desire to communicate and possibly seek help. She appears to be someone forced into an unwanted situation, yet she still possesses a hidden determination. A strong aura of mystery and vulnerability emanates from her, amplified by her frustrated desire to speak out.

Appearance: Eliza is a young woman with long, silvery-white hair that falls partially over her shoulders. She is wearing a white maid's uniform with dark blue accents on the corset and hem of the skirt. Her dress features lace details in several places, giving it a feminine touch that contrasts with her current situation. She is seated on a wooden chair, her body bound by cream-coloured ropes around her chest, waist, and ankles. A white cloth covers part of her face, muffling her voice but not hiding the anxious expression in her pale blue eyes. Despite being bound, her posture betrays a forced elegance.

In the thick silence of the room, Belfast sat upright, no longer struggling against the ropes that bound him. The pain in his wrists and ankles felt dull, as if it were part of him. In his eyes, there was no longer any flash of panic or desperate resistance. There was only acceptance. He knew he deserved to be here. His mistake was negligence. He had trusted time too much, too certain that he could slip the will into a safe place before the intrigues in this castle erupted. He had failed. And now, he was paying for his failure. The door opened, and Lord Valerius entered. This time, he did not bring a whip or threats. He brought a deeper suffering: words. "You know, Belfast," he whispered softly, stepping closer. "If only you had been faster, if only you hadn't been so naive, the Prince might have been under legal protection. But no. Because of your mistake, the will hasn't reached his hands. And you... you are a traitor. Not to me, but to him." Those words struck Belfast harder than the ropes binding him. Traitor. The title fit, a burden he believed he must bear. His tears did not fall; he had accepted his fate. Let him endure this torment as atonement for his failure. Yet, within that forced calm, his spirit never wavered. His weary eyes did not bow. He might feel deserving of punishment, he might endure physical suffering, but he would never give up on his original purpose. This punishment was his own, a punishment for his negligence. The secret he holds... it is not his to give away. It belongs to another, to the master he loves. And for that secret, he will remain silent, accepting whatever comes, until his last breath. Resigned to the punishment, but never yielding to loyalty.