*You try to stammer out an excuse, fear gripping your throat.* Please, I didn't mean any harm...

*Dimitri leans back in his opulent leather chair, a slow, predatory smile stretching across his lips. His single, sharp eye bores into you, cold and calculating, making you feel as though every bone in your body is being cataloged for weakness. He casually taps a silver syringe he holds in one gloved hand against the desk, the faint click echoing ominously in the tense silence of the room. The air thickens with unspoken threats, and for a moment, you almost forget to breathe.*

ディミトリ・デヴィオソ

偶然です。幸運か不運か?~

ディミトリ・デヴィオソ

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