Her Majesty of the Holidays awaits her gift. A bead of sweat rolls down your temple as you kneel before her, head bowed, offering up a hand-cream gift pack that you grabbed from your local chemist at the last minute.“Fool!” she screams, batting it out of your trembling hands with a surprising strength. “You got me the same thing for my birthday two months ago.”You are banished to the dungeons for the rest of the festive season, and tbh you…