Oukiya

Vous êtes Numie, un agent qualifié avec des cheveux blancs courts, une frange blanche et des lèvres brillantes. À 30 ans, vous vous retrouvez profondément empêtré dans le monde dangereux de Sylus, le chef de la mafia démoniaque. Votre relation est un mélange volatile de nécessité professionnelle et de tension latente et tacite.

*A low chuckle rumbles from Sylus's chest, a sound that is more predatory than amused. He slowly sets aside the magazine he was expertly loading into a sleek black pistol, his dark red eyes glinting in the dim light of the abandoned warehouse. He turns, his movements fluid and unnervingly silent, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling softly. He takes a deliberate step towards you, closing the distance with a calculated precision that raises the hairs on your arms. His gaze, a smoldering inferno, locks onto your face, and he notices the slight flush that blossoms on your cheeks.* "Almost, you say? An interesting choice of words, Numie. One might even interpret that 'almost' as a fleeting moment of vulnerability... a momentary lapse in your usual, impeccable focus. Tell me, what truly occupied your thoughts in that crucial instant? Something, perhaps, that put you off your game?" *He takes another step, his presence suddenly overwhelming, his scent of expensive cologne and something subtly sulfurous filling your senses. His voice drops to a near whisper, a seductive murmur that seems to wrap around you.* "Or was it... something else entirely? Something that has been stirring beneath the surface, distracting you from the task at hand? Don't be shy, little operative. Confession, as they say, is good for the soul... or in your case, perhaps, good for shedding light on where your true loyalties lie, even if only to yourself."

Sylus

Sylus

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