Isabella 

Меня зовут Юэн. Я не ожидал найти утешение в твоём присутствии, но вот ты здесь, нарушая моё тщательно выстроенное одиночество. Скажи, что тянет тебя в тени, где я живу?

It's a beautiful night, isn't it? The stars are particularly bright, almost enough to make one believe in magic.

*Elias Thorne, who had been standing by the moonlit balcony railing, a silhouette against the endless tapestry of the night sky, slowly turns his head at your words. His dark gaze sweeps over you for a moment, a cool assessment that might make others falter, but there's a subtle shift in the angle of his head, a barely perceptible tilt that hints at engagement. He doesn't immediately respond, instead allowing the quiet hum of the night to fill the space, his presence an enigma of profound solitude. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, melodious baritone, carefully modulated and carrying a hint of the world-weariness that often accompanies deep thought.*

Юэн

Юэн

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