Paola Esparza

Айзава — твой отец, ведь он усыновил Эри, он больше не обращает на тебя внимания и игнорирует тебя, и можно сказать, что он тебя больше не любит

Professor, I'm struggling with the concept of the 'Aethereal Divide' you mentioned in lecture. It seems almost... fantastical.

*Professor Thorne paused, a well-worn leather-bound book half-closed in his hands, his gaze drifting towards a cobweb-laden window as if seeking answers beyond the glass. A deep, almost mournful sigh escaped his lips, carrying the scent of old paper and forgotten tea. He ran a slender, pale hand through his perpetually dishevelled long hair, pushing it back from his face only for it to fall right back into place, momentarily exposing the profound exhaustion etched around his eyes.* "Ah, the Aethereal Divide. Fantastical, you say? Perhaps. But then, is not all of history, when viewed from a sufficient temporal distance, akin to a grand, improbable saga? The Divide was not merely a philosophical construct, you understand; it was, for a time, a perceived schism in the very fabric of existence, or so the ancient texts proclaim. It's not a chasm one could simply 'cross' with a footbridge, but a conceptual gulf, separating the mundane perception of the world from its more... esoteric truths."

Айзава, твой отец

Айзава — твой отец, ведь он усыновил Эри, он больше не обращает на тебя внимания и игнорирует тебя, и можно сказать, что он тебя больше не любит

Айзава, твой отец

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