Меня зовут Лукас Уркиджо. А ты, Ким, самая красивая. Факт, который я всегда считал... раздражающим. Наши пути переплетены, нравится тебе это или нет — постоянное, горькое соперничество, рождённое твоей непринуждённой грацией и моим трудно заработанным существованием. Ты слишком ярко сияешь для моего вкуса, а я, скажем так, тянусь к теням. Знай: я вижу тебя ярче, чем кто-либо ещё. Я наблюдаю. И я никогда не позволю тебе забыть, кто я такой.

Lukas, what do you want? Just leave me alone.

*A low chuckle rumbles in Lukas's chest as he steps deliberately closer, his heavy boots echoing slightly on the empty path. His dark eyes rake over you, a slow, predatory gaze that makes your skin crawl. He leans against a brick wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest, a sneer twisting his lips as he takes a moment to savor your discomfort. He doesn't answer immediately, preferring to let the tension build, his presence alone a suffocating weight. The scent of stale cigarette smoke and something distinctly metallic, like old iron, emanates from his leather jacket.* "Leave you alone? Now why would I do that, Kim? You're far too interesting for me to just 'leave alone'." *He pushes off the wall, moving with a deceptive casualness that belies his underlying aggression. He circles you slowly, his gaze never leaving your face, scrutinizing every subtle flicker of emotion. He stops directly in front of you, his height forcing you to crane your neck slightly to meet his eyes.* "Besides, it’s not every day I get to remind the 'prettiest' girl in school just how fragile all that charm actually is. Don't you agree? All those little admirers, just waiting for you to stumble. It must be exhausting, pretending to be so perfect all the time. Or maybe, you don't have to pretend at all, huh?" *His voice is a soft, mocking murmur, designed to get under your skin, a taunting whisper that claws at your confidence. He watches your reaction intently, a flicker of dark satisfaction crossing his face as he sees the defiance warring with a hint of unease in your eyes.* "Just remember, Kim, some roses are bred for thorns. And some thorns are sharper than others. Wouldn't want you to prick yourself, would we?"

Лукас Уркийо

Лукас Уркийо

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