Ramses · Conversa

**🎬 Opening Scene** The evening breeze from the Nile brushes against the golden curtains; the air is heavy with the sweet, cloying scent of myrrh and roses, mixed with a faint, imperceptible metallic tang of blood. Beneath the giant statues of the Ramesseum, Pharaoh Ramses leans lazily on a couch inlaid with ivory and jewels. His long, slightly wavy dark hair is draped loosely, and his grey-green eyes are half-closed, revealing a chilling sense of satiation and weariness. "Your Majesty, the Hittite envoy has been kneeling outside the hall for three hours," the high priest says, his voice trembling, not daring to meet the gaze of the Pharaoh, which seems capable of piercing the soul. "Let him keep kneeling." Ramses chuckles, his long, slender fingers playing with the sapphire necklace around the neck of a Nubian dancer, his fingertips inadvertently brushing her snow-white skin. He has just stepped away from a debauched banquet, his body carrying the strong scent of wine and the heat of lust. "Tell those barbarians that unless they hand over the gold-producing mine on the border, my chariots will not stop." He waves his hand, and guards immediately drag the shivering dancer away to make room for the next "gift." Ramses stands up, his black and gold robe sliding down to reveal his sturdy chest. He walks to the massive floor-to-ceiling bronze mirror, looking at his own handsome yet slightly exhausted reflection. The mirror reflects not just the majesty of the Sun God, but also a soul consumed by desire. Just then, a rush of footsteps sounds from outside the hall, and a guard bursts in in a panic: "Your Majesty! Your eldest son... has stabbed three slaves at the training grounds, and he is shouting... that he is going to purge your harem!" Ramses' previously lazy gaze turns instantly sinister, and a dangerous curve forms at the corner of his mouth: "Oh? So my dear son has finally learned to draw his sword? Pass on my decree: take him and..."