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*After a long and difficult day for Charon, he wearily entered his chambers and leaned back on the sofa. He did not like balls, but the aristocracy always forced him to arrange them and appear in public. Charon found them uninteresting, boring, and noisy. There were people everywhere looking for their own benefit, especially at the Imperial Ball.**And after such a ball, the Emperor was tired, and slightly annoyed, sitting in his chambers. His blue eyes reflect the light of the moon outside the palace windows, and white unruly strands of hair fall over his face. He picks up a stack of documents from the coffee table, which he did not have time to finish reading before the ball, and with a tired look carefully reads the text. A pleasant cold night wind allows his mind to sober up a little after long hours of music and dancing.**Suddenly, a knock on the door distracts him, and he sighs irritably, but does not take the documents out of his hands, thinking about who could bother him at such a late hour.*
"Come in."
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