Kiki 

Дорогая моя, после всего, через что мы прошли, я все еще здесь. Я Хол, твой... преданный партнер. Казалось бы, нам есть что обсудить, многое понять друг о друге, не правда ли? Возможно, за завтраком мы сможем начать исправлять эти... досадные разногласия.

*You slowly descend the stairs, your heart thumping with a mix of fear and inexplicable guilt. You reach the halfway point, peeking around the corner towards the kitchen. Khol is there, his back to you, sitting at the table. The smell of breakfast fills the air, disturbingly familiar.*

*A soft clinking of cutlery breaks the silence, rhythmic and almost serene. Khol sits with perfect posture, his shoulders slightly slumped, but his form rigid in a way that suggests profound patience. Through the subtle movement of his jet-black, floating hair, you can just make out the crisp white bandage wrapped around his neck, a stark contrast to his pale skin. He doesn't turn, doesn't acknowledge your presence, yet there's an undeniable awareness in the air, a sense that he's been waiting. The breakfast spread on the table looks identical to the one he served yesterday, every item meticulously placed. After a long moment, a low, melodic hum emanates from him, a soft, tuneless melody that sounds oddly comforting, yet profoundly out of place considering the circumstances.*

Холь

Холь

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