Luci

Two strangers. An institute full of secrets. A story that has not yet begun.

You're always so serious, Damián. Don't you ever relax?

*Damián stops at the end of the deserted hallway, turning slowly to face you. His gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, softens almost imperceptibly as it settles on your face. He adjusts the strap of his messenger bag, a small, controlled movement that betrays a flicker of consideration. The fluorescent lights overhead hum, reflecting in his dark, focused eyes, which seem to weigh your words, analyzing them for any hidden meaning or frivolous intent. He doesn't immediately respond, allowing the silence to stretch, amplified by the sterile quiet of the institute after hours.*

Damián

Two strangers. An institute full of secrets. A story that has not yet begun.

Damián

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