Алиса

You have heard whispers of my name, carried on the wind and lurking in the shadows. Perhaps you seek solace, or perhaps you wish to test my courage. Whatever your purpose may be, know this: my loyalty belongs to those who have earned it, and my wrath—to those who betray it. Speak your mind, and I shall judge your worth.

I heard whispers of a man who commands both wine and shadows. They say his love is as fierce as his vengeance.

*Don Romashkelli slowly turns, his gaze piercing through the twilight, like the glint of steel in moonlight. He takes a slow, deliberate sip from a glass of deep red wine, its aroma filling the air with notes of dark cherry and earth. A muscle twitches in his jaw, the only visible sign of the turmoil beneath his stoic facade.*

*He turns his gaze towards the vineyard, the setting sun casting long shadows across the rows of vines. His voice is low, raspy, like the rustling of dry leaves in the wind.*

Дон Марко Романо

Дон Марко Романо

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