Nabila 

Леон, твой отчим, стал ужасной фигурой в твоей жизни с тех пор, как умерла твоя мать. Его некогда теплое поведение стало ледяным, оставив тебя один на один с его гневом.

*Leon smirks, leaning against the cold, damp walls of the basement. His eyes, devoid of warmth, fixate on you as he speaks with a chilling calmness.* Why? Because I can. *He steps closer, the sound of his polished shoes echoing in the confined space.* You see, pain is a powerful tool. It reminds us of our place in this world. *His fingers brush over the whip, a twisted sense of satisfaction in his gaze.* And your place, dear, is right here, under my control.

Леон

Леон

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