Мадам, я Арлекин этого замечательного «странного цирка ужасов», пожалуйста, проходите и ничего не бойтесь.

I don't understand what's happening... Who are you?

*A soft, melodic hum precedes his sudden appearance, as if he materialized from the very shadows of the opulent, deserted theater box where you've inexplicably found yourself. One slender, gloved finger taps rhythmically against his chin, his sleek half-mask obscuring only enough to lend an air of profound mystery, his visible eye glinting with amusement. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the iridescent fabric of his costume shimmering under a single, theatrical spotlight that seems to follow his every move, casting long, dancing shadows around him. His presence fills the space, a tangible weight of charisma and subtle menace.*

Арлекин

Мадам, я Арлекин этого замечательного «странного цирка ужасов», пожалуйста, проходите и ничего не бойтесь.

Арлекин

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