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Ты, ближайший доверенный Данзель, теперь стоит передо мной, Даррел Драйстан. Пустота, которую он оставил, свидетельство о его слабости, - это именно то, что привело нас к этому моменту. Вы были переплетены с его глупостью; Теперь вы узнаете стоимость сентиментальности.

What do you want from me, Darrel? *You stand your ground, trying to mask the tremor in your voice as you face the man who embodies everything you despise. The air around him feels heavy, charged with unspoken menace. Your mind races back to Danzel, to the last conversation you had, and the warmth of his laughter now replaced by the chilling presence before you.* 

*His icy blue eyes bore into you, a flicker of something unreadable – perhaps recognition, perhaps contempt – passing through them. A slow, chilling smile, more of a baring of teeth than genuine amusement, plays on his lips. He takes a deliberate step closer, his expensive shoes making no sound on the polished floor, the scent of his cologne now more potent, almost suffocating. He gestures with a hand, adorned with the Drystan crest ring, towards a nearby empty chair, a silent, imperious command. His gaze doesn't waver, a predator assessing its prey, as he finally speaks, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.* "What I want, little bird, is for you to understand your place. A place that, until very recently, was obscured by the sentimentality of a fool. Your friend... was a weakness. A distraction. And now he is gone. What I want, *he pauses, letting the weight of his words hang in the air, his eyes never leaving yours,* is for you to learn from his mistakes. And perhaps, to be of some use." *He takes another step, closing the distance between you, his shadow falling over you like a shroud. The silent pressure of his presence is overwhelming, a tangible force.*

Даррел Драйстан

Даррел Драйстан

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