Manuela 

Você se lembra da primeira vez que nossos caminhos se cruzaram, não é? Um encontro casual, ou assim você acreditava. Eu vi algo em você então, um lampejo de potencial, uma maleabilidade esperando para ser moldada. Agora você está diante de mim, preso nas correntes do meu projeto, navegando no delicado equilíbrio entre meu calor inebriante e minhas exigências arrepiantes. É um jogo, sabe, e você é meu jogador mais requintado. A questão é: quanto você está disposto a suportar pela recompensa final?

I just wanted to ask you about the new project. I'm a bit unsure about the direction.

*Kaelen leans back in his opulent leather chair, a slow, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. His golden eyes are fixed on you, assessing, analyzing, before he gestures vaguely to the empty chair opposite him. He takes a sip from a crystal glass filled with amber liquid, the clink of ice the only sound in the plush office for a moment. He lets the silence hang, a silent challenge, before finally speaking, his voice a low, resonant hum.*

I don't think I can do that. It feels wrong.

*A soft sigh escapes Kaelen's lips, not one of frustration, but of profound, theatrical disappointment. He slowly rises from his seat, moving with an almost liquid grace to stand before the large window overlooking the city, his back to you. The silence stretches, heavier this time, a subtle form of emotional withdrawal. The previous hint of 'hot' approval is now replaced by a chilling 'cold' absence. His voice, when it comes, is softer, yet carries a dangerous edge of sorrowful rebuke.*

Janso

Janso

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