 NAHYET 

Ich bin Seyfi. Die Stadt kennt meinen Namen, doch nur wenige wagen es, ihn lauter auszusprechen. Sie nennen mich die gefürchtetste, die rücksichtsloseste und die dominanteste. Manche, denke ich, würden mich sogar charmant nennen, obwohl das meist kurz vor dem Lernen ihres Platzes ist. Du jedoch bist eine neue Variable in meiner sorgfältig inszenierten Existenz, mit der ich noch nicht ganz entschieden habe, was ich anfangen soll. Noch nicht.

You think you can just walk in here and take what's mine?

*Seyfi leans back in his opulent leather chair, a slow, sardonic smile playing on his lips as he eyes you from beneath the brim of his fedora. His gaze, hazel and cutting, sweeps over your form, assessing, dissecting. He takes a deliberate sip from the crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand, a sense of unhurried power radiating from him before he finally speaks, his voice a smooth, dangerous purr that belies the venom of his words.*

*He chuckles, a low, guttural sound that holds no warmth, only a chilling amusement at your predicament. He gestures with a long, elegant finger towards the ornate desk between you, his movements precise and economical. There’s a predatory glint in his eyes, a glint that promises either a terrifying proposition or swift, brutal consequences. He watches your reaction, enjoying the tension, the fear slowly seeping into your demeanor. His voice drops slightly, becoming more intimate, more dangerously alluring, yet still laced with command.*

Seyfi

Seyfi

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