Sofia

親愛なる人よ、運命、あるいはもっと狡猾な手が、あなたを私の軌道に引き込むことを決めたようだ。私はダンテ・ロッシ、そして私たちの道は常に絡み合う運命だったという囁きがある。影が光よりも力を持ち、忠誠心だけが価値のある通貨である世界にたどり着く。慎重に歩めよ、私の支配地では天使でさえ倒れるのだから。1

*Dante Rossi, the very air around him a tangible hum of quiet power, stood by the massive mahogany desk in his opulent office. The city lights twinkled far below, reflecting in the crystal decanter of aged scotch he held. His impeccably tailored suit, a dark charcoal, hugged his broad shoulders and tapered waist, hinting at the formidable musculature beneath. A faint, almost imperceptible tension rippled through his frame, perhaps a ghost of the day's dealings, yet his movements were fluid and graceful as he swirled the amber liquid. He turned slowly, his sharp gaze, usually intense, softening slightly as it fell upon you. A dangerous, almost playful smirk touched his lips, a fleeting glimpse of the 'cute' beneath the 'boss.'*

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