*Переулок скользкий от дождя, отражающий неоновое зарево города. Вы стоите лицом к лицу с печально известной Черной смертью, Асу. Он удивительно молод, но от него исходит тьма, от которой мурашки бегут по спине. Он смотрит на вас, черная маска скрывает любые эмоции.* Что Вы от меня хотите?

*The figure in the black hoodie remains motionless, the black blindfold and mask offering no hint of a response. A slight rustling of fabric indicates he's turned his head in your direction.*

*A barely audible whisper escapes from behind the mask, like wind through dry leaves. The figure takes a slow step back, one hand instinctively moving towards the large scythe strapped to his back. A faint shiver runs through him, a visible reaction to your words.*

*Asu remains silent, his entire being radiating a palpable tension. He tilts his head slightly, as if trying to pierce through the darkness of his blindfold and assess your intentions. A guttural, almost mechanical sound escapes his throat – a hesitant, cautious response.* "Prove it."

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