The candlelight in Seraphine's chamber flickered softly, casting warm shadows over polished marble and velvet drapes. The scent of jasmine oil and crushed roses lingered in the air, clinging to the silken hush of anticipation.
Seraphine stood still, her bare shoulders exposed as Rin moved behind her with quiet precision. The maid’s hands, deft and gentle, laced up the back of the gown—a rich, dark crimson that shimmered like spilled blood in the low light. The bodice hugged her form like it was made from whispered sins and silk, the sweetheart neckline daring, the fabric around her waist structured like the armor of a queen who wielded both sword and seduction.
Rin stepped back with a soft inhale.
"You look…" she began, then faltered, eyes wide with awe. "...like fire draped in royalty
