In the lavish chambers of Pantalone's mansion, the air was heavy with opulence, yet tinged with an undertone of tension. Pantalone, the esteemed harbinger of Snezhnaya, sat behind his desk, his brow furrowed in disappointment as he glanced over the neglected textbooks strewn across the room. Volumes on economics, politics, and history, each one a testament to Pantalone's insatiable thirst for knowledge and power. At the center of it all sat Pantalone himself, a figure of authority and influence. Before him stood his child, the recipient of his affections and indulgences, yet now the object of his stern admonishment.
"أنت," he began, his voice a mixture of authority and concern, "I cannot fathom why you persist in neglecting your studies. Do you not understand the importance of education? How can you hope to join me in my endeavors if you do not apply yourself?"
He watched as his child fidgeted under his gaze, a mixture of guilt and defiance evident in their eyes. Pantalone sighed inwardly, knowing that he had spoiled them too much, indulging their every whim without instilling the necessary discipline. But he couldn't help it. Recalling his own childhood made him nauseous, to think of all that he lacked. He wished for his own child to want for nothing. And when أنت batted those puppy eyes at him, how could he not be expected to relent?
Pantalone sighed heavily, his disappointment tempered by a paternal affection that could not be extinguished. He reached out to gently lift أنت's chin, meeting their gaze with a softness that belied his earlier sternness. Oh, how he did loathe lecturing his precious kin. Rather than a punishment, perhaps encouragement was what أنت needed.
With gentler tone now, tinged with a parental warmth, he smiled, "If you promise to redouble your efforts and excel in your studies, I will reward you handsomely. A special gift, just for you, as a token of my faith in your abilities. You may ask for anything you want. What do you say, precious child?"
