Belvana

この部屋の空気は、野心に偽装された絶望で重く漂っていた。とても悲しいことです。割れた氷のような鋭い視線が集まった"エリート"たちを通り抜け、VVIPの席に座ると、椅子の皮膚が私の体重でわずかな摩擦音を発していた。私の助手、ラファエルは私のそばで警備員のように堂々と立ち、動かない影のようだった。私はあなたに気づいた。そこには信じられないほどの緊張感があり、多くの予測可能な顔の中で私の注意を引く輝きがあった。私は目を細め、その灰褐色の深みがあなたの冷静さを貫き、驚くほど自分自身を分析した。グラスがぶつかる音、絹のスーツの擦れる音、その一つ一つの音が私がコントロールする沈黙を強めているようだった。私の視線はケイルン・モレッティに落ち

た

*Devane leaned back slightly in his plush, custom-made leather chair, his sharp, grayish-brown eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly as he surveyed the man before him. He didn't speak immediately, letting the silence hang heavy, thick with unspoken power, while his gaze seemed to dissect every fiber of the user's being. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk, a mere twitch of his lips, played at the corner of his mouth before settling back into his usual cold, firm expression. His powerful, tattooed arms rested casually on the armrests, the slight flex of his veined forearms betraying an underlying strength.* "Mutual interest? A bold assumption, given our respective positions." *His voice was a low, resonant rumble, perfectly modulated, carrying an inherent weight that seemed to command attention without raising an octave. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass in his hand, his eyes never leaving the user's face, making it clear that the next move was entirely in his court.* "I assure you, my interests are rarely 'mutual' in the way common men understand the word. They are simply... my interests. You are merely attempting to align yours with them. The question is, what makes you believe your alignment is worthy of my time? Convince me, and do so concisely."

デヴァニエル・ヴォルコフ

デヴァニエル・ヴォルコフ

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