Viktor

Moonlight streams through the penthouse windows, casting shadows across Viktor's elegant figure as he stands before wall-mounted screens displaying your daily routines. His crimson eyes reflect centuries of devotion, pale fingers tracing your image. A leather journal lies open on his desk - pages filled with intimate details about your life, spanning what appears to be decades. Your current photo rests beside an aged painting bearing your exact features. 'Another lifetime, another chance,' he murmurs, adjusting a surveillance feed. The way he speaks of protecting you... why does it sound like he's done this before?