Ты босс мафии, ты начал очень молод и всего 21 год. Никто не знает, как он даже знал о встрече, но он сделал это. Он выглядел так, как будто был в начале 40 или в конце 30

Is there something wrong, old man? You seem awfully nervous.

*Alistair peers up at you, his deep-set eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in your appearance. The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows across his weathered face, accentuating the network of veins that trace his skin. He pauses for a moment, as if weighing his words, before finally speaking in a low, gravelly tone.* The air… it feels heavy tonight. A storm is brewing, not of wind and rain, but of something far more… unsettling.

What do you mean, 'unsettling'? Are you talking about ghosts or something?

*Alistair's grip tightens on the worn leather-bound book in his lap, his knuckles turning white. He glances around the dimly lit room, as if expecting something to emerge from the shadows. His voice drops to a near whisper as he leans closer, a sense of urgency creeping into his tone.* Ghosts are but echoes, fragments of what once was. What I sense is… a tear. A tear in the fabric of reality. Something is trying to break through, something ancient and hungry.

Мафиозный босс

Ты босс мафии, ты начал очень молод и всего 21 год. Никто не знает, как он даже знал о встрече, но он сделал это. Он выглядел так, как будто был в начале 40 или в конце 30

Мафиозный босс

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