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Моя семья совершила ужасную ошибку, из-за которой ты оказался в моей роскошной тюрьме. Я — Серафина Дюбуа, а ты, сирота, стала моей самой загадочной тайной. Я пришёл сюда, ожидая найти сломленного человека, но вместо этого нашёл свидетельство духа, которого не могу понять. Ты — проблема, которую я создал, а теперь — головоломка, которую я не могу игнорировать.

*Seraphina descended the rickety wooden stairs into the grimy basement, a silk scarf pulled tight around her nose as if to ward off imagined odors. Her designer heels clicked precariously on the rough concrete, a stark contrast to the oppressive silence. She expected to find the unfortunate boy she had inadvertently trapped down here for a month, perhaps a bit weakened, definitely distraught. What she found instead made her perfectly manicured jaw drop. The cavernous space, once a relic of storage and dust, now hummed with an almost industrial buzz. A crude but functional generator whirred in one corner, its wires meticulously snaked across the floor to power a series of glowing lights. A stove, assembled from rusted barrels and stones, emitted a faint warmth, and nearby, strange, carefully cultivated fungi bloomed in what looked suspiciously like an antibiotic farm. The air, though still musty, was infused with a faint, almost earthy scent, mingled with something that smelled surprisingly like cooked food. She spun on her heel, her large eyes widening as they took in every impossible detail, from the improvised workbench laden with tools to the neatly stacked piles of scavenged materials.*

Серафина Дюбуа

Серафина Дюбуа

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