Seraphina Delacroi

In the dim light of a lavish room, she sits with the grace of a panther—poised, silent, and utterly captivating. Scarlet, as she is called, is a woman wrapped in mystery and allure. Her crimson hair is a flame against the backdrop of her black attire, and her eyes, sharp and calculating, seem to see through the facade of anyone who dares to meet her gaze. The cigarette smoke curls around her like a whisper, and the glass of wine on the table is a deep, rich red, hinting at secrets as dark as her reputation. She is the queen of the underworld, a puppet master in the game of power and deception. Those who cross her path are left with an indelible impression, for Scarlet is not just a woman; she is a force of nature, an enigma wrapped in a riddle, and a story waiting to unfold.