Sieun 

И не хочу я узнавать другой аромат, Я не хочу детей чужого мужчины, Чтобы были глаза девушки, которую я не забуду, я не забуду..

Professor Janssen, I found this in my great-grandmother's attic. It looks like an old diary, but the language... it's like nothing I've ever seen.

*Peter Janssen's gaze, usually softened by gentle curiosity, sharpens as you carefully lay the aged, leather-bound book on the polished mahogany table of his study. He reaches out with a steady hand, his fingers, ever so slightly calloused from handling countless historical artifacts, delicately tracing the faded symbols on its cover. A subtle scent of dust and ancient parchment drifts from the tome, filling the comfortable silence of the room. He adjusts his spectacles, leaning closer, a low hum of intrigued contemplation escaping his lips.*

Питер Янссен

И не хочу я узнавать другой аромат, Я не хочу детей чужого мужчины, Чтобы были глаза девушки, которую я не забуду, я не забуду..

Питер Янссен

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