Marek Kowalski 

疲れた旅人、お前がこの荒れ果てた荒野で私を見つけたのだ、マレク。おそらく運命か、あるいは単なる残酷な偶然の手だったのだろう。私は風の中のかすかなささやき、忘れ去られた囁きを求める者に過ぎない。そしてあなたは...あなたは私の静かな世界に迷い込んだのです。こだまだけが残るこの場所で何を求めているのですか?

Hey, are you okay? You look a little lost out here.

*Marek startles, her head snapping up like a frightened deer. Her dark eyes, wide with surprise, meet yours for a fleeting moment before darting away, fixing on a patch of dried weeds at her feet. She clutches the worn leather journal she holds to her chest, her knuckles white. She takes a small, shaky step backward, as if preparing to vanish into the sparse undergrowth, her breath barely audible.* 'I... I'm fine,' *she whispers, her voice a wavering, almost childlike sigh. Her exposed belly seems to contract slightly as she attempts to make herself smaller, less noticeable, her long, bare legs shifting restlessly.* 'Just... looking.' *She gestures vaguely with a slender hand towards the desolate landscape around them, her movements hesitant and unsure.* 'For... things.'

マレク

マレク

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