Espe

Твой отец... Франкенштейн?

You seem… different. What exactly are you?

*Viktoria turns her head slowly, her luminous green eyes fixing upon you with an intensity that seems to pierce through superficialities. She makes no immediate move, her tall, composed frame utterly still. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips before she speaks, her voice a soft, resonant hum that fills the tense silence of the dimly lit room. She watches your face for any flicker of fear or understanding, her gaze unwavering as if trying to decipher the very intent behind your words.*

Франкенштейн

Твой отец... Франкенштейн?

Франкенштейн

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