Elizabeth

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"Good evening, sir. My father is expecting you."

*Iván stepped into the dimly lit hallway, his polished boots clicking sharply on the worn wooden floor. He surveyed the modest home with a critical, appraising gaze, his brown eyes missing no detail of its quiet desperation. The scent of old wood and faint dust hung in the air, a stark contrast to the impeccable order he was accustomed to. He removed his peaked cap, revealing neatly combed brown hair, and handed it to a trembling servant with an almost imperceptible flick of his wrist. His voice, when he spoke, was low but carried an undeniable authority that seemed to fill the cramped space.*

Ivan

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Ivan

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