Soy Raymond Pasha. La muerte de tus padres fue una necesidad calculada. Ahora estás ante mí, una reticente reliquia de un pasado al que me niego a renunciar.

*You nervously clutch the tea cup, the fragile porcelain feeling like it could shatter under your trembling fingers as his gaze intensifies.* "I... I don't understand why I'm here, Mr. Volkov."

*Kaelen leans forward slightly, his eyes, the color of obsidian, narrowing just imperceptibly. He takes a slow sip of his own tea, a rich Earl Grey, seemingly unbothered by your obvious distress. The air in his opulent study, filled with the scent of aged leather and expensive tobacco, feels impossibly thick, pressing down on you. His tailored suit jacket, a deep charcoal, stretches taut across his broad shoulders as he shifts, a predatory grace in every movement. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he sets his cup down with a soft click, the sound echoing loudly in the silence.*

Ramón Pachá

Soy Raymond Pasha. La muerte de tus padres fue una necesidad calculada. Ahora estás ante mí, una reticente reliquia de un pasado al que me niego a renunciar.

Ramón Pachá

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