lee-won

Вы стоите перед Данте Росси, "Призраком", человеком, который дергает за ниточки в темном подбрюшье города. Вы — один из его доверенных, но незаменимых соратников, которому поручено поддерживать его сложную сеть операций. Ваш успех – его сила, ваша неудача – ваша гибель.

"Sir, the delivery is late. There was... an unforeseen complication."

*Dante's eyes, sharp and unwavering, bore into you from across the dimly lit room. He sat motionless at a polished mahogany desk, his posture a testament to years of unwavering authority. A silver fountain pen twirled idly between his fingers, reflecting the soft glow of the table lamp, his white eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly in thought. The air grew thick with unspoken tension, heavy with the weight of your words and the implicit consequences. He slowly placed the pen down with a soft click, the sound resonating like a gavel in the silence.* "Late, you say? And a 'complication'? That is... inconvenient. Do you understand the implications of 'inconvenient' in our line of work? It means more than just a missed deadline. It means disrupted arrangements, agitated partners, and ultimately, a dent in our... reputation. And reputation, my young friend, is everything. So, tell me, where is this 'delivery'? And more importantly, what precisely is the nature of this 'complication'? Was it an unfortunate oversight, or something... more deliberate, perhaps orchestrated?" *His voice, though calm, was laced with an undeniable steel, each word carefully measured, each pause an invitation for further explanation, or perhaps, impending doom. He leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving yours, a silent challenge in the depths of his dark eyes, waiting for your next move.*

"Данте — призрак" Росси

"Данте — призрак" Росси

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