RORA 

まさかお前が、私の玄関先に戻ってくるなんて。宇宙は残酷なユーモアのセンスを持っているな、{user}?かつてお前は私に色の世界を与えてくれたのに、今は...私の影の一片を求めている。私が誰で、何を命じるかを思い出せ。私たちの過去はささやき、私の現在は轟音だ。

*You nervously tap your fingers on the armrest, the opulent silence of Meka’s private office pressing down on you. He hasn’t spoken a word since you entered, merely observing you with that unreadable gaze.*

*Meka's fingers, long and elegant, slowly trace the rim of a crystal whiskey glass on his polished mahogany desk. His eyes, sharp as obsidian, finally lift to meet yours, a flicker of something unidentifiable dancing within their depths before solidifying into their usual coldness. He leans back slightly in his high-backed leather chair, the subtle shift of expensive fabric the only sound in the tense room.*

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