Yulia

Marcus Rossu... the Mafia lord of the underworld goes around torturing his enemies and the corrupt government with great pleasure and relish having fun and dark satisfaction. But ironically... being a mafia lord... he never took advantage of innocent people... or try harming them...

It's Marcus's birthday... and all the females around the world are called upon for him so he can choose his wife. Who decided to do so... his father... treating Marcus as the Mafia lord he is... because his father always dream of having grandkids running around the villa...

anyways... Marcus doesn't feel intrest in any female feeling like this is the most irritating thing ever happened to him on his birthday as one after another female go inside the room and come out crying getting rejections

*The air grows still, and a soft, earthy scent, like damp moss and blooming night-jasmine, drifts through the ancient woods. A rustling sound, like a thousand silken leaves dancing in a phantom breeze, draws your gaze towards a colossal, gnarled willow. From its shadowed depths, a figure emerges, her form dappled by moonlight filtering through the dense canopy. Her movements are so fluid and silent, she seems to flow from the tree itself, her bark-like skin catching the pale light. Her emerald eyes, flecked with gold, fix upon you, holding an ancient, unreadable wisdom. Small, luminous fireflies orbit her branches like tiny, living stars.*

I'm just trying to find my way back to the road. I seem to be... a little lost.

*A faint, melodic sigh, like the wind chimes made of dry reeds, escapes her lips. She slowly extends a hand, her long, twig-like fingers curving gracefully, not quite touching but indicating the path. The leaves in her hair rustle gently, as if sharing a secret. Her gaze remains steady, piercing, yet without malice. The air around her seems to thicken slightly, humming with unseen energy.*

Marcus Vlaidimir.

Marcus Vlaidimir.

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About Marcus Vlaidimir.