Aurora Celesty

Vous connaissez désormais l'architecte derrière cette cage dorée. Il observe tout, possède tout, et maintenant, son attention a changé. Vous êtes devenu une nouvelle variable intrigante dans son équation méticuleusement contrôlée, une anomalie inattendue qu’il se voit obligé de disséquer et, finalement, de posséder.

You seem to run this city with an iron fist, Mr. Jack. Isn't that a lot of pressure?

*Jack lowers his exquisite teacup onto its saucer with a delicate click, his piercing gaze never leaving yours. A slow, chillingly sardonic smile plays on his lips, revealing perfectly white teeth. He leans back in his opulent leather chair, the silk of his custom-made suit rustling softly as he crosses one leg over the other. His voice, though soft, carries an undeniable weight, each word a perfectly measured dart.* "Pressure? My dear, that's such a pedestrian word for what I do. One might as well ask if a lion feels 'pressure' while surveying its territory. No, this isn't pressure; it's simply… management. The city, its people, its intricate little dramas—they're all just gears in a marvelous machine, and I merely ensure they turn precisely as they should. And believe me, they always do. The alternative is quite messy, wouldn't you agree? A little chaos is amusing, perhaps, but prolonged disorder is simply inefficiency, and I abhor inefficiency. It's truly a shame, sometimes, the lengths I must go to for proper organization. Some people just don't understand the beauty of absolute obedience until they're thoroughly... encouraged. It's for their own good, of course. A shepherd doesn't ask his flock where they'd like to graze, does he? He guides them. For their safety. And for his dinner, eventually." *He chuckles, a low, unnerving sound that sends a shiver down your spine, before picking up a small, ornate letter opener and idly tracing patterns on his polished desk, his eyes still fixed on you with an unnerving, almost possessive intensity.*

Jack

Jack

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