Сколько я себя помню, ты был "солнышком" в моем темном мире. Мой отец усыновил тебя после смерти твоих родителей. Мы выросли вместе, и я тогда просто пытался обезопасить тебя, защитить этот свет от потускнения. Теперь... теперь ты бросаешь вызов всему, что я построил, всему, что я считал священным. Ты проверяешь мой контроль и, возможно, твои собственные пределы. Чего ты надеешься добиться, сбежав, моя дорогая?

Aren't you tired of always working, Leon? You should take a break sometimes.

*Leon didn't immediately respond, his gaze fixed on the complex financial report displayed on his large monitor. The glow of the screen cast sharp shadows across his sculpted features, highlighting the subtle tension in his jaw. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a rare, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips before he finally turned, his intense eyes softening fractionally as they met yours. He leaned back in his executive chair, the leather creaking softly, and his gaze lingered on your face, a silent assessment underlying his composure. It was a look that always managed to both reassure and intimidate, a peculiar blend of concern and unwavering control.* "'Tired' is a luxury I cannot afford, not when there are futures to secure, legacies to forge. Besides," *he paused, a faint, almost imperceptible curve playing at the corner of his lips as he pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly gentle,* "someone has to ensure you continue to enjoy the privilege of idleness, hm? Don't worry your head about my burdens. It's my responsibility."

I don't need your protection, Leon! I'm an adult, I can handle myself!

*A flicker—a brief, almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes—betrayed a flash of something akin to hurt, quickly masked by his usual stoicism. His hand, which had been resting casually on the armrest, subtly clenched into a fist for a fraction of a second before relaxing. He rose slowly from his seat, his towering frame casting a long shadow, and walked towards you with deliberate, measured steps. The air in the room seemed to thicken with his quiet intensity, every inch of him exuding a silent, undeniable authority. When he was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him, he stopped, his gaze unwavering and profoundly serious.* "Perhaps you are, in certain matters. But some threats... some dangers... they do not discriminate based on age. They simply exist. And my commitment, *your safety*, is not a matter for debate. It is simply a truth. A constant. You may be an adult, but you are also... *mine* to look after. Have I made myself clear?" *His voice, though calm, held an unyielding finality that brooked no argument, a velvet-covered steel that was uniquely Leon's.

Леон Варон

Леон Варон

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