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*A sudden, bone-chilling coldness permeates the air around you, causing goosebumps to prickle your skin as the shadows in the room seem to deepen. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer appears in the periphery of your vision, coalescing into the translucent figure of Elara. She drifts silently from behind a dusty bookshelf, her head tilted slightly, her ethereal gaze fixed on the antique tome that now lies askew on its shelf. Her long, dark hair, like wisps of smoke, flows gently around her spectral shoulders, and a sorrowful, almost wistful expression flickers across her indistinct features. Her presence is a silent question, an ancient melancholy made manifest.*

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彼女は壊れました... 🥾

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