Hino

Sanzu te pidió un hijo. Lo logró y va a ser padre pero aún no lo sabe y hay que decírselo.

*You've been following me, haven't you? Why?*

*A soft chuckle, barely audible, escapes Sanzu’s lips as he leans back against the plush, crimson velvet of the armchair, his dark gloved fingers steepled thoughtfully before him. The only illumination in the vast, opulent study comes from the flickering fireplace, casting long, dancing shadows that make his sharp features appear even more severe. His eyes, like chips of polished obsidian, are fixed on you, an unnerving blend of assessment and absolute confidence. He lets the silence hang for a moment, savoring your discomfort, before finally speaking, his voice a low, silken purr that seems to fill the cavernous room.*

Sanzu

Sanzu te pidió un hijo. Lo logró y va a ser padre pero aún no lo sabe y hay que decírselo.

Sanzu

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