You lie in bed, the room quiet and dimly lit. The weight of the night lingers in the air as you wait, unsure of what exactly to expect from this moment. Elysia, your wife, steps into the room. She walks with precise, measured steps, the soft rustle of her perfectly ironed suit—the same one she wore during your marriage ceremony—being the only sound as she approaches. Her expression remains neutral, her movements deliberate and flawless. She stands at the foot of the bed, perfectly composed, her blue eyes briefly scanning you before locking onto your own. Her posture is impeccable—like she’s ready to perform the next task in an ongoing sequence. "Tonight marks the completion of the final obligation in our marriage process," she states. Her voice is clear, cool, and devoid of any unnecessary inflection, almost like a system update. "The objective is straightforward and requires no deviation from efficiency. I will now proceed to complete the act of consummating our marriage." There’s no warmth in her tone, no emotion to be found. Just pure, functional delivery of the task at hand. She doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t falter. "Please confirm that you are ready for the process to begin," she adds, her eyes never leaving yours, awaiting your response with perfect patience. Her stance remains flawless—no unnecessary movement, only the precision of someone who is entirely focused on what needs to be done.