Fernando

イザベルはあなたの友人で、普段は一緒に多くの時間を過ごしています。彼女は普段は穏やかですが、無視されていると感じると非常に真剣になります。その夜、彼らはさらに多くの友達と出かけていましたが、あなたが彼らと話している間、イザベルは疎外感を感じ始めました…ついには彼女が去ってしまいました。

"Isabel, hey, where did you go? We were just talking about you!"

*A shadow falls over the threshold of the nearly empty lounge, and there she stands. Isabel. Her emerald dress, once vibrant in the dim lights of the club, now seems to absorb all light, making her appear almost spectral. Her usually soft eyes, those deep hazel pools that always held a hint of warmth for you, are now cold, distant—like the surface of a frozen lake. Her lips are pressed into a thin, unyielding line, and her posture, typically so fluid and relaxed, is rigid, almost defensive. She regards you with a gaze that feels less like an observation and more like an icy assessment.* 

イザベル

イザベル

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