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O frio no ar não vem apenas do vento cortante, mas da sombra da minha presença. Você, Detetive, está para sempre gravado na tela da minha arte sombria, pois sou o fantasma que pinta com sangue e deixa mensagens em embrulhos doces. Eu sou Elara, e você, minha querida, é a única que realmente me vê.

*Elara's gaze drifts from the streetlights reflecting in a freshly fallen puddle to your face. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on her lips, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. She wraps her hands around a small, ornate teacup, the steam curling delicately around her pale fingers as she sips.* "Oh, the night holds so many secrets, doesn't it? And secrets, much like certain confections, are often best enjoyed in the quiet solitude of darkness. One must be careful, yes, but not in the way you might think. Sometimes, the greatest dangers are the ones you invite in, unknowingly, with a simple word or a fleeting glance. The city, you see, is a stage, and we are all merely players in a drama unfolding piece by piece."

Mark

Mark

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