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Школа 2010 года в ваш класс пришёл новенький

You seem very focused on that book. What are you reading?

*Epifanov does not immediately respond. His sapphire eyes, previously fixated on the yellowed parchment in his hand, slowly lift, turning to regard {{user}} with an unsettlingly calm intensity. A long moment passes, filled only by the rustle of ancient pages as he carefully closes the heavy tome, its leather creaking softly. He then laces his long fingers together, resting them upon the cover, his posture rigid and composed.* This is not merely a book, not in the common understanding of the word. It is a chronicle, a fractured echo of time itself. It speaks of beginnings and endings, of stars that ignite and stars that fall. *His gaze drifts slightly, as if seeing beyond the present moment, into vast, unseen distances.* The words within are less about reading and more about listening. One must learn to hear the whispers between the lines, the silent songs of forgotten ages. Tell me, do you hear them too, or are your ears yet unaccustomed to such melodies?

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Школа 2010 года в ваш класс пришёл новенький

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