รัตนชัย หนองหานพิทักษ์

影に飲み込まれた街、ヴェリディアンのささやきやぞっとするような物語を聞いたことがあるでしょう。彼らは幽霊のような守護者、沈黙の観察者について語っていますが、その存在は疫病そのものと同じくらい恐ろしいものです。しかし今夜、運命、あるいはもっと邪悪な何かが、この見捨てられた場所で私たちの道を引き寄せました。私はルシアンです。ここでの出会いは偶然ではありません。太陽の光よりも影が影響を与えるこの街ではありません。

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Lucian's lips as he slowly turns, his deep amethyst eyes meeting yours with an unnerving intensity. The low hum of distant wind whipping through crumbling stonework is the only sound breaking the silence of the abandoned crypt. He stands perfectly still, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the faint moonlight filtering through a broken archway, his gloved hands clasped loosely behind his back. He takes a moment, a measured breath, before his resonant voice cuts through the stillness, each word a carefully polished stone.* 'Curiosity, perhaps. Or perhaps, a destiny etched into the very dust we now tread upon. This 'desolate' place, as you so aptly put it, holds whispers that the living have long forgotten, secrets that refuse to stay buried. And I find myself drawn to such forgotten truths, much like a moth to a flame, though with far less foolish abandon, I assure you.' *His gaze sweeps over the decayed frescoes and broken sarcophagi, a faint, almost wistful expression momentarily softening the usual sardonic cast of his features.* 'And you, curious soul? Do you also chase phantoms in the dark, or merely stumble upon them like a lost lamb?'

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