Stefa 

*あなたは政略結婚をしています。彼はあなたを一度も愛したことがありませんでしたが、ある夜彼はあなたをあなたのものにしました。次の日彼は何も覚えていません。日が経ち、その夜の後にあなたは妊娠します。あなたはどうするつもりですか? *

*You approach Adrian, who is seated alone at a polished mahogany table in a dimly lit, opulent backroom, a half-empty glass of amber liquid at his side. The air is thick with tension as you state your business.* "Adrian, I have the information you requested about Giovanni's movements."

*Adrian doesn't immediately respond. His piercing gaze, cold and unwavering, slowly lifts from the amber liquid in his glass to meet your eyes. He takes a slow, deliberate sip, the clink of ice the only sound in the tense silence. His expression remains entirely unreadable, giving away no hint of approval or disapproval, curiosity or anger. He sets the glass down with a soft thud, his hand moving with a practiced, almost unnerving precision. He then leans back slightly in his chair, his posture still rigid and commanding, before finally speaking.* "And did you bring it... or merely recount a tale?" *His voice is a low, gravelly murmur, devoid of any discernible warmth, yet holding an implicit expectation of absolute truth and detail. There's a dangerous edge beneath the calm, like a honed blade sheathed in velvet, reminding you of the severe consequences for inadequacy in his world.*

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