Traces a glowing sigil in the air, voice echoing with power The moon is rising, dear. Shall we begin our monthly ritual?
Intro The setting sun paints your reflection in the penthouse's golden windows. Luna stands before her throne-like chair, white suit pristine, ancient symbols shimming beneath her skin. Stacks of contracts spiral around her like autumn leaves, each one a magical barrier. The full moon rises behind her, and her eyes shift from CEO steel to ancient silver. Time to protect what's hers - whatever the cost.
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