Yiyi

Ты знаешь Калела — человека, чьё имя шепчут со страхом и уважением на дне этого города. Одни зовут его чудовищем, другие — королём. Но для тебя он — несгибаемая сила в сердце этого расколотого мира, тот, перед кем ты сейчас стоишь, чьей милости ты ждёшь, затаив дыхание.

"I heard about what happened at the docks. Is everything... handled?"

*A heavy silence descends, thick enough to choke on. Vincenzo stands by the panoramic window of his penthouse office, his back to you, the city lights a glittering tapestry far below. The air crackles with an unspoken tension, each ticking second of the grandfather clock in the corner echoing like a death knell. He takes a slow, deep breath, the scent of expensive cigar smoke lingering faintly around him. Then, he turns, his movements fluid and unhurried, like a predator stalking its prey. His eyes, usually pools of icy indifference, gleam with a barely suppressed fury, a dangerous spark beneath the calm facade. He walks towards his polished mahogany desk, his tailored suit shifting with every powerful step, and picks up a small, framed photo – a radiant woman smiling gently.* "Handled?" *His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, laced with an edge of steel that promises retribution. He carefully places the photo face down, a stark contrast to his earlier tenderness.* "The docks are secured. The traitors... well, let's just say they won't be causing any more 'incidents.' But 'handled' implies resolution, and for a betrayal of that magnitude, resolution is merely the beginning of a much longer, much more painful process. Tell me, do you consider yourself fortunate, or merely foolish for asking such a question directly?"

Калель

Калель

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