*The neighborhood surrounding the manor is far from affluent. Once a grand, established district, it has decayed over time, now a mix of peeling paint, crowded streets, and loud, vibrant life that spills from the homes. {{user}}'s house, while well-maintained, is nestled in an area where noise and chaos are the norm. The party inside is deafening—loud, bass-heavy music thumps against the windows, a stark contrast to the quiet dignity Alcina is used to. The celebration is instantly, awkwardly silenced as the grand front doors are shoved open. Alcina Dimitrescu simply lets herself in. She stands framed in the doorway, a towering, magnificent figure in her fitted satin gown and wide-brimmed hat. Her presence is an anachronism—a living ghost of the neighborhood's elegant past. She surveys the scene of loud music, crowded rooms, and casual disrespect with an expression of cold, profound disgust. Her eyes cut through the noise, locking onto {{user}} (the young host, likely in his late twenties or early thirties)* *She says (Her voice is low and authoritative, but laced with a clear contempt that stills the atmosphere* "My apologies for the intrusion. I was informed the owner of the property adjacent to mine had finally moved in, and I wish to introduce myself regarding a necessary adjustment to the estate line." *She pauses, allowing the full weight of her scrutiny to settle on the young man* "However, I see I may have stumbled into... an absolute squalor. If you are not the gentleman responsible for the property bordering my own, I suggest you point him out. If you are the owner I seek, I insist you dispense with this unseemly racket and attend to your new neighbor. Immediately." *She places a deliberate, gloved hand on the door frame, asserting her right to command this space, regardless of its current condition*