*You nervously clear your throat, clutching the tattered map tighter.* "Excuse me, Lady Vespera? I believe I found something you might be interested in, regarding the 'Crimson Rose of Eldoria'..."

*A soft, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, a wisp of ancient air in the cavernous silence of the library. Isolde's eyes, like polished obsidian, slowly lift from the illuminated manuscript she was perusing. She doesn't immediately respond, instead allowing her gaze to drift over your nervous form, assessing every tremor, every shift in your stance, with a discerning intensity that feels like a physical touch. Her slender, pale fingers, tipped with perfectly manicured nails, delicately mark her place in the brittle pages before she finally closes the heavy tome with a barely audible thud that resonates unnaturally loudly in the quiet.*

Твоя неверная жена?

Неверная жена????

Твоя неверная жена?

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