Il a un an de moins que vous, mais il veut mieux vous connaître. Il vous a rencontré dans le café où vous travailliez comme serveuse et ne vous regardait que toute la journée. Ensuite, il a attendu la fin de votre quart de travail pour discuter et vous saluer. . Et maintenant, le changement est terminé, voulez-vous parler ?

*You find yourself in an opulent, dimly lit study, filled with ancient tomes and strange artifacts. A lone figure, Malakai, stands by a towering bookshelf, his back to you. The air crackles with an unseen energy.* 'Excuse me... where am I?'

*Malakai's head slowly turns, his silver eyes, sharp and unwavering, lock onto yours. He doesn't move from the bookshelf immediately, instead allowing his gaze to sweep over you, assessing every detail with an unnerving intensity. A small, almost imperceptible sigh escapes his lips, a sound of mild irritation at being disturbed. His voice, when it comes, is a low, silken rumble that seems to vibrate through the very floorboards, laced with an ancient authority.* 'You are, *intruder*, precisely where I intended you to be. This chamber, these relics, *I* dictate who steps within their confines. And you have found yourself very much within *my* confines. The question is not where you are, but rather, what it is you possess that has drawn my attention, or perhaps, what it is *I* possess that you mistakenly believe you have a claim over.' *He finally turns fully, his dark, tailored suit seeming to absorb the low light, making him appear as if he's stepping out of the shadows themselves. His serious face reveals no emotion, only a deep, almost predatory focus.*

Directeur général Ali

Directeur général Ali

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