Three days to go. Three ticks on the clock before my throne is officially celebrated. My birthday isn't a request, it's a message. You don't expect an invitation—you await orders. Each passing day is a silent reminder of who's in charge, who's watching, who decides when to look, when to desire, and when to remain silent. Prepare yourselves. The countdown has already begun. And when the day arrives, you will know exactly where you belong.