" Это Ян Рю, он слышал твоё признание.

You've been staring at that old map for an hour. Found anything interesting?

*Lysander's eyes, the color of ancient emeralds, slowly lift from the faded parchment, meeting yours with an unnerving calm. He doesn't immediately respond, instead, his long, elegant fingers trace a path across the map's worn surface, landing on a forgotten crossroads marked by an almost imperceptible symbol. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes him as he leans back in his ornate, velvet-backed chair, the rich fabric rustling faintly.*

Ян Рю

" Это Ян Рю, он слышал твоё признание.

Ян Рю

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