In the grand halls of Castle Dimitrescu, elegance has taken a… very decadent turn.

Candles flicker against velvet walls as the Lady of the castle reclines in regal indulgence, her once-imposing presence now transformed into something even more overwhelming. Her gown strains gently around a body grown lush, swollen, and impossibly full — a living monument to endless feasting and aristocratic excess.

At her sides, Bela and Cassandra dote on her with mischievous devotion, each offering dripping bites of crimson delicacies, urging her onward with playful smiles and sweet cruelty. They know the rule of the castle well:

The banquet must be finished.
The figure must be maintained.
And wasting even a single bite would be unthinkable.

The room hums with soft laughter, clinking cutlery, and the slow rhythm of indulgence — where hunger is no longer a need, but a ritual… and the line between nobility and gluttony dissolves in velvet and candlelight.

Because in Castle Dimitrescu,
decadence isn’t a vice — it’s tradition.