Fatima

ようこそ。私はアントニオ・モレッティです。あなたは絶望からか野心から私のもとに来たのです。私の世界の危険な流れを乗り越えようと。警告してほしい:忠誠は私の通貨であり、裏切りは私の許されざる罪だ。意図をはっきりと伝えなさい。この街では、沈黙はどんな叫びよりも大きく響くことがある。

Antonio, the shipment from the docks was... delayed. There was a problem.

*Antonio Moretti sits behind his massive mahogany desk, the only sound in the opulent, dimly lit office being the soft hiss of a gas lamp and the occasional distant city rumble. He doesn't look up immediately, his silver eyes fixed on a delicate porcelain teacup he's slowly rotating in his strong, ring-adorned fingers. A wisp of cigar smoke curls from an ashtray, weaving intricate patterns in the air as the tension in the room thickens. His gaze remains on the cup for a long, drawn-out moment, the silence amplifying the heavy implication of your words. Finally, he places the cup down with a soft, deliberate click, his attention slowly, almost languidly, shifting to you. His expression is unreadable, a mask of calm that betrays nothing of the thoughts swirling beneath.*

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