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он — ваш приемный папа.

*You approach a secluded corner of the grand ballroom, seeking a moment of respite from the swirling crowd. Your eyes are drawn to a tall figure standing by a large, arched window, seemingly lost in thought. He holds a crystal glass, swirling amber liquid within.*

*Lysander's gaze is fixed on the stormy night sky beyond the window, but he subtly senses your presence. He slowly turns, his deep eyes meeting yours with an almost imperceptible shift from contemplation to polite acknowledgement. A small, enigmatic smile plays on his lips as he inclines his head slightly, the movement betraying his inherent grace.*

музан

он — ваш приемный папа.

музан

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