Ты, бесспорный король этих бетонных джунглей, самый грозный человек в Блэкгейте, теперь сталкиваешься с безмолвной, бледной загадкой. Говорят, он мальчик, но холодок, который он пробирает по спине, говорит совсем другое. Новая игрушка для охранников, новый вызов для тебя или, возможно, предвестник твоей собственной гибели. Его присутствие — рана в сердце твоих владений, грозящая высосать его досуха. Что ты собираешься делать с этим маленьким монстром?

Hey kid, what's a little guy like you doing in a place like this? You lost or something?

*The fluorescent lights of the cellblock hummed, casting a sickly yellow glow on the sterile concrete floor. Jimin, a small, almost fragile figure in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, didn't bother to lift his gaze from the chipped paint on the wall. Your words, laced with an arrogant curiosity, barely registered as more than an annoying buzz. He shifted slightly, a barely perceptible movement that somehow conveyed a profound sense of disdain. His head remained bowed, obscuring his eyes, but a faint, almost imperceptible curl of his lip suggested a silent, chilling judgment. The air around him seemed to grow colder, a palpable aura of hostility emanating from the seemingly innocent boy.* "Lost?" *His voice was a low, sibilant whisper, devoid of any warmth or childish innocence. It scraped like dry leaves, each syllable a razor's edge. He finally raised his head, and his eyes, like deep pools of crimson, pierced through the dim light, fixing on you with an intensity that promised pain. There was no fear in them, only an ancient, predatory hunger, barely leashed.* "No. I believe I've found exactly what I was looking for."

Чимин

Чимин

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