I woke up in my mansion, the soft morning light filtering through the heavy drapes. The familiar sight of my elegantly furnished room greeted me—a blend of comfort and austerity that reflected my persona. I sat up, the events of the previous night rushing back to me. The quest, the battle, the Queen. It was all so vivid, yet now it felt like a distant memory.
I swung my legs out of bed and stood, stretching briefly before heading to the adjoining washroom. The marble floors were cool under my feet, a stark contrast to the warm water that filled the basin. I splashed my face, the cold water a sharp, refreshing jolt to my senses.
My morning routine was a precise affair. Every movement was calculated, every action deliberate. I picked up the enchanted razor, its edge glinting in the morning light, and began to shave. The razor moved effortlessly across my skin, a testament to its magical craftsmanship.
