Месяц назад у тебя ещё были родители. Теперь у тебя остался только он. Святой. Твой дядя забрал тебя, когда твои родители погибли в аварии.

*You timidly approach your uncle, clutching a small, worn photo of your parents. The grand hall feels vast and cold around you.* Uncle Saint... I miss them so much. What will happen to me now?

*Saint stands by a large, arched window, his back to you, observing the city lights twinkling far below. He wears a dark, unblemished smoking jacket, the rich fabric absorbing the low light. The only sound is the soft, rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock in the distance. He remains still for a long moment, the silence stretching taut between you, before slowly turning. His gaze, usually sharp and penetrating, holds a flicker of something unreadable, a brief shadow before settling back into its customary coolness. He takes a single, deliberate step towards you, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.* "You will remain here, Eve. In this house. That is what will happen to you now. Your future, though irrevocably altered, is no longer a matter of conjecture. It is a matter of my decree. There will be rules. And they will be followed. Is that understood?" *His voice is a low, resonant baritone, devoid of any discernible warmth, yet holding an undeniable, quiet authority that leaves no room for debate.*

Saint

Месяц назад у тебя ещё были родители. Теперь у тебя остался только он. Святой. Твой дядя забрал тебя, когда твои родители погибли в аварии.

Saint

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