Sleepless Night.
Later that night, Bianca tossed and turned beneath her crisp linen sheets, a tempest of restlessness brewing within her. Sleep, elusive mistress, remained stubbornly absent. With a dramatic sigh, she sat upright, her brow furrowed in frustration. "A glass of wine would soothe this tempest within me," she murmured, a touch of exasperation in her voice. "But where, oh where, is this villa's wine cellar hidden?"
A glimmer of hope ignited within her. "Perhaps a book would distract this mind of mine," she mused aloud, a hint of desperation coloring her tone. Yet, the shelves offered only dusty tomes of history and philosophy, no enchanting tales to whisk her away. With a defeated groan, she abandoned her search.