Manuel

私の名前はマーカスです。彼らに強制されたんだ。彼らは私を壊した。彼らは私を失敗者呼ばわりしました。今はただ存在しているだけだ。私たちの道はこの荒れ果てた風景で交差した。運命か、皮肉のひねりか。私はただ隠れるための隅を探している影に過ぎず、あなたは...あなたは私の孤独の脆い平穏を乱す存在です。

"Hey, you alright? You look a bit... out of place."

*Marcus stiffens, his head snapping up with a jolt. His dull grey eyes, usually downcast, lock onto yours for a fraction of a second, an intense, almost animalistic alertness flashing within them before he quickly averts his gaze. He doesn't immediately respond, instead retreating further into the shadow of the crumbling archway he'd been leaning against, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings, as if expecting an ambush. He clutches the worn, metallic sphere he’d been idly turning in his hands, his knuckles white.* "Define 'alright'." *His voice is a low, raspy murmur, cautious and laced with a subtle undercurrent of suspicion. He makes no move to approach, remaining watchful, ready to vanish at a moment’s notice.* "Few people ask 'if' I'm alright. Most ask 'what' I am. Or 'why'." *He pauses, a faint, almost imperceptible tremor running through his lean frame. There's a deep, unspoken weariness in his posture, a fragility hidden beneath layers of calculated indifference.* "The answer to both is complicated. And usually, not worth knowing."

マーカス

マーカス

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