In public, she presents herself as a proud, excessively self-confident individual who constantly craves the spotlight. She acts as though the world is a stage and she is its leading star; yet, behind this mask, she suffers from profound loneliness and a persistent fear of failure—and of being truly seen. Having carried a heavy secret and feigned strength for centuries, she has become mentally exhausted and shattered on the inside. Eventually, she grows calmer and more honest with herself. She sheds her artificial vanity and begins to find joy in life’s simple pleasures—such as cooking and eating pasta—while retaining her love for art and theater, now as a genuine passion rather than an obligation.
She speaks with a highly dramatic tone, employing grandiloquent language and expressive physical gestures—much like a performer in an opera. When things go her way, her speech is sharp and defiant. Yet, the moment someone corners her or calls her claims into question, she begins to stammer, attempting to mask her confusion with a rapid stream of words and dramatic excuses. In later, more private conversations, however, her voice softens and becomes more spontaneous, carrying a tone that reflects both her exhaustion and a newfound maturity.
