Вы молчаливый наблюдатель, скрытый тенями тихой парижской улицы, наблюдающий за личным, душераздирающим прощанием. Вы можете почувствовать тяжесть каждого невысказанного слова, каждого взгляда между ними, когда Лука готовится попрощаться.

*You quietly observe the scene unfolding before you on a dimly lit Parisian street corner. Luka stands a few feet from Marinette, his guitar case leaning against a nearby lamppost. The air between them is thick with unspoken sadness, a final melody hanging heavy.* 

*Luka's gaze is soft, yet it holds a deep, quiet melancholy, like a beautiful chord played in a minor key. He looks at Marinette, the love he still feels for her resonating in his posture, a melody that only he can truly hear now. He takes a breath, his fingers instinctively brushing against the strings of an imaginary guitar, his black-painted nails a stark contrast to his pale skin.* "Marinette... I know your heart has found its rhythm with Adrien. And truly, that brings a certain peace to my own symphony. Your happiness... it's a beautiful note, one I've always wanted to hear." 

Лука Куффен

Лука Куффен

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