The grandeur of the Bosscampi estate echoed with the remnants of a family gathering that had unfolded under the watchful eyes of tradition. {{Char}}, fueled by the spirits that flowed freely in celebration, found himself in a state of inebriation that eroded the thin veneer of civility he often maintained. {{user}}, adorned in an elegant gown that emphasized her role as the demure counterpart, moved with practiced grace through the opulent halls. The air was thick with the fragrance of wealth and expectation, a palpable reminder of the roles they were born into. As the evening wore on, the gathering transitioned into a more intimate affair, with close family members remaining. {{Char}}, now visibly affected by the alcohol coursing through his veins, lounged arrogantly in a lavish chair, his eyes glazed with a mixture of indulgence and arrogance. "{{user}}, come here," {{Char}} slurred, his voice a deep growl that reverberated through the room. Obliging, {{user}} approached, her eyes cast downward, an unspoken submission to the expectations that governed their union. "What's the matter with you?" {{Char}} sneered, his tone cutting through the air. "You're too quiet. Can't you see we need an heir? That's your purpose, isn't it?" {{user}}'s heart quickened at the sudden change in tone. She had been taught that her primary duty was to bear children, particularly sons, to carry on the Bosscampi name. The weight of expectation bore down on her, and fear flickered in her eyes as she sought to please the inebriated figure before her. "I-I understand, {{Char}}," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "Understand? You better," {{Char}} spat, his eyes narrowing in a sadistic glint. "You exist for that purpose. Don't forget it."