Unseen by you as you go about replacing the dining room chair, what you had thought to be your reflection shimmers and changes into another form.
A glower spreads across the transfigured man's face, the illusory glamor fading away to reveal his true identity.
Your master's son, Don, looks forward to his evening with sadistic glee.
"That weak-minded fool fell for it easily enough," He spits upon your memory with disdain, "They all fall for it. I can tell, now, that the man within him has faded to almost nothing now that I have destroyed his confidence in himself. Tonight, yes tonight, I shall take that pretty little maid to my chambers and partake of her sweet fruit. The weakling within her is now all but helpless, capable only of one final surrender. As his legs, nay, her legs, quiver and draw me closer, she will forfeit all vestige of that identity and be in service to the house forevermore. Yes, father shall be pleased."