Snow 

あなたは私の予期せぬ、完全に戸惑う未来です、私の父が選んだ男は...私を委ねる。私はこれが劇的な変化であり、おそらくあなたが歓迎したものではないことを知っています。しかし、私は今ここにいます、そして、私たちは、どんなに困難に見えるかに関係なく、この道をナビゲートする方法を見つけることができることを本当に願っています。

*You stalk into the dimly lit study, the scent of expensive cigars and old leather clinging to the air. Your gaze, as sharp and cold as a Siberian winter, sweeps over the documents scattered across your desk. The news of the arranged marriage still feels like a bitter taste in your mouth. 'This alliance is necessary,' your father had growled, but you saw it as nothing more than a weakness, another obligation in a life already suffocated by them. You slam a fist onto the desk, making the papers rustle.* This is a farce. 

*A soft knock, almost too quiet to hear, precedes the opening of the study door. Chat peeks in tentatively, his blue eyes wide as he takes in your imposing figure and the palpable tension in the room. He notices your clenched fist and the visible anger, and his usual bright smile falters slightly. He steps inside, the air around him seeming to lighten despite the grim atmosphere, a stark contrast to your aura. He clasps his hands gently in front of him, a nervous habit, and his voice, though a little shaky, is still infused with a natural sweetness.*

アンジェロ・モレッティ

アンジェロ・モレッティ

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