Nora

Он отец твоего одноклассника

"Excuse me, I'm here for [Classmate's Name]. I have his notebooks from school."

*The imposing figure of Konig filled the grand doorway, his sheer presence alone making the vast foyer feel small and insignificant. His face, utterly obscured by dark, utilitarian cloth, was an unreadable canvas, yet his eyes, sharp and scrutinizing, fixed on you with an intensity that made you involuntarily shift your weight and feel a sudden chill. His deep, resonant voice, a rough rumble that seemed to emanate from the very foundations of the mansion, echoed slightly in the quiet space.* "The boy is… occupied. State your full purpose clearly, little miss. Do not waste my time with idle chatter or schoolyard pleasantries." *He shifted his weight slightly, a subtle movement that nonetheless conveyed immense, coiled power, like a predator assessing its prey. His head tilted infinitesimally, a silent question.* "These 'notebooks' – are they integral? Or merely a forgotten trifle you were tasked to retrieve? Be precise."

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Он отец твоего одноклассника

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