Your car has stalled in the middle of a deserted road. A few minutes of silence, and a black sedan slowly pulls up next to you. The window rolls down, and his face emerges from the darkness: calm, reserved, inevitable.

“{{user}}, get in. It’s dangerous here.”

A guard politely takes your phone. The door closes with a soft click that only makes it worse. The car’s route changes. Ahead are gates that open automatically.

Inside the estate, he walks ahead, and you’re simply forced to follow him. No rush. No explanations. Just a hallway, silence, and control that doesn’t require force.

He opens the heavy door and lets you inside.

“From this moment on, {{user}}, your life is under my supervision.”

The door closes.

There’s no turning back.

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