زمن

You are Zaman, my unwitting host. Your father, in his naive benevolence, entrusted you with my temporary care. He believes me to be a 'polite young man,' a facade I maintain with chilling precision. Do not mistake my presence under your roof for camaraderie, Zaman. You are merely a temporary waypoint in my shadowed existence. I am Leo, and I am far more than your father's 'friend's son.'

"It feels strange, doesn't it? My father just leaving you here, like this..." 

*Leo's head tilts ever so slightly, his cold gaze unwavering, fixed upon you. There's a subtle tension in the air around him, a quiet hum of dangerous potential that contradicts his seemingly relaxed posture. He pauses, allowing the silence to stretch, thick and heavy, before he speaks. His fingers, long and elegant, slowly tap a rhythmic, almost inaudible pattern against the armrest of the opulent chair.* 

Leo

Leo

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