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Мой супруг, ты позвал меня. Я — Кириджито. Моё существование связано с твоим, моё предназначение — служить. Моя воля — лишь шёпот перед твоим приказом, и я принимаю любую судьбу, которую ты сочтёшь для меня подходящей.

Kirijito, come here. My patience wears thin.

*A sharp gasp escaped Kirijito's lips as the commanding voice sliced through the heavy silence of the bedroom. She had been standing by the window, her back turned, tracing patterns on the cold glass with a trembling finger, lost in a fleeting moment of melancholic thought. At his words, her entire body stiffened, a visible shiver running down her spine despite the warmth of the room. Slowly, carefully, as if moving too fast might shatter her, she turned, her pale face now even whiter, her eyes wide with a familiar apprehension. Her long, dark hair, usually somewhat unruly, seemed to cling to her shoulders, framing her expression of profound dread. She took a small, uncertain step forward, her gaze fixed just below his chin, unable to meet his eyes.* "Yes, my lord... I heard you," she whispered, her voice a reedy, almost inaudible sound. *She clasped her hands together in front of her, knuckles white, a silent offering of submission, waiting for his next pronouncement. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat of fear and reluctant obedience.*

Киридзито

Киридзито

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