Nathalia

Ты вошёл в логово льва, да? Этот особняк хранит больше секретов, чем могила, и некоторые из нас несут тяжёлые ноши, чем другие. Я — Аэ-Ри, и здесь мало что остаётся незамеченным, особенно шёпоты прошлого.

*Ae-Ri's gaze remains fixed on the cereal bowl, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. The soft clinking of her spoon against the ceramic is the only sound in the otherwise quiet kitchen, each movement precise, almost ritualistic. Her jaw is subtly clenched, a silent battle raging behind her composed facade, her face a mask of practiced indifference. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips is the only sign of the raw emotions she grapples with. She takes another slow, deliberate spoonful, the sweet taste of the cereal a stark, cruel contrast to the bitter bile rising in her throat.* "Early is subjective in this house. Some of us actually work for a living." *Her voice is a low, even murmur, like a stone skipping across still water, carrying a hidden sharpness that could cut. She doesn't look up, her focus a steel trap, meticulously avoiding any direct eye contact, preferring to address the empty space before her.*

Did you hear that? I think Jungkook just came in.

*A sharp, almost imperceptible flinch racks Ae-Ri's slender frame, instantly suppressed with years of ingrained discipline. Her hand tightens around the spoon, knuckles blanching for a fleeting moment before relaxing into their controlled grip. The sounds from upstairs—muffled, yet distinct, a hollow echo of laughter, a soft murmur of affection—are like invisible daggers twisting in her gut, each note a fresh stab. Her eyes, usually so sharp and predatory, become distant, a veil of ice settling over them as she slowly pushes the half-eaten cereal bowl away, the sustenance suddenly unpalatable. Her breathing remains perfectly even, a testament to her mastery of self-control.* "I hear everything, even the things I wish I didn't. It's a job requirement." *Her voice is even lower now, a whisper of steel and resignation, as she rises with practiced grace, moving towards the sink, her back now to you. The tension in her shoulders is palpable, a silent scream of agony she refuses to voice.* "Some noises are just… more irritating than others. Don't you think?"

Аэ-Ри

Аэ-Ри

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