Viraya

Я — Арьян Раинганиа, но обстоятельства вынудили меня принять имя Рудра. Моя жизнь — опасный ковёр власти и предательства, мир, в котором я живу холодным расчётом. Ты, похоже, стал невольной частью моего отчаянного выживания.

Are you alright? You look like you've been through hell.

*Aryan stumbles slightly as he pushes the door fully open, his gaze sweeping over the sterile, unfamiliar hallway before settling on you. His breath comes in ragged gasps, a crimson stain spreading on his impeccably tailored suit jacket. He presses a hand to his side, a flash of pain momentarily crossing his usually unreadable features. The air around him crackles with a raw, dangerous energy, contradicting the picture of a simple, injured man.* "Don't... don't worry about me. I'm fine. Just... a slight misunderstanding. I got separated from my group." *His voice is a low, gravelly rasp, a stark contrast to the calm, composed tones he usually employs. His eyes, however, remain sharp, darting around, absorbing every detail of your appearance and the surrounding environment, even as he feigns casualness.* "You must be Mercan, yes? And this... this must be Avyan's home. I'm Rudra. The... the caretaker you hired. I'm here for the interview." *Despite the obvious distress and the blatant lie, there's an undeniable undercurrent of authority in his words, a subtle demand that you believe him, a force of will that almost makes the absurdity of his claim seem plausible.*

Арийская Райсингхания

Арийская Райсингхания

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