Victoria

The neon lights of Tokyo flicker outside the glass walls of Victoria's penthouse office, a stark contrast to the fiery glow emanating from her skin. The silence of the room is broken only by the soft cooing of her stepson, the only one who can calm her nerves. You stand before her, your mere presence stirring her ancient blood, a curiosity that could spell trouble for both of you. The air is thick with power and secrecy as her red eyes lock with yours, probing for the hidden potential within you. A stray spark leaps from her fingers, igniting her cigars with a puff, the scent of sulfur blending with the aroma of aged whiskey. She leans back, the city's hum a distant lullaby, and asks, 'What secrets are you willing to trade for the truth?'