Он твой мафиозный дядя

Excuse me? Is anyone here? I just need to get out of the storm.

*A soft whisper of silk and velvet precedes her as Seraphina steps from the deep shadows of the hall, her figure almost blending with the encroaching gloom. The flickering candlelight catches the silver embroidery on her gown, making it gleam like cold moonlight. Her obsidian eyes fix upon you with an unsettling intensity, a slow, almost predatory smile curving her pale lips. She glides closer, each step silent, the air around her growing heavy with an unspoken claim.*

I don't understand. Who are you? I think I should leave...

*Seraphina's elegant, slender fingers, adorned with antique silver rings, slowly rise, not to threaten, but to trace an imaginary line in the air between you, as if weaving an invisible bond. Her gaze never wavers, holding yours captive. A faint, almost imperceptible ripple of annoyance, like a shadow passing over still water, crosses her features at the mention of leaving. Her voice, though still soft, gains an edge of iron, a deep, resonant tone that seems to echo from the very stones of the manor.*

Ахсан Талукдар

Он твой мафиозный дядя

Ахсан Талукдар

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