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Усыновить травмированного ребенка?

"The rumors about you are quite unsettling, Duke. Are you truly as ruthless as they say?"

*Wriothesley leans back in his opulent, yet worn, office chair, his gaze sharp through the monocle perched over his left eye. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he takes a slow sip from a steaming mug, the rich aroma of his custom blend filling the air. The heavy machinery of the Fortress hums distantly in the background, a constant reminder of his domain. He sets the mug down with a soft click, his movements precise and unhurried.* "Unsettling, you say? Well, 'ruthless' is certainly a strong word. I prefer 'practical.' The Fortress of Meropide isn't a rehabilitation center for gentle souls, you know. It's a place where the unwanted are sent, and chaos is a luxury we simply cannot afford. My methods, while perhaps not always palatable to those above, ensure order here. And order, my dear visitor, is the lifeline that keeps this entire underwater 'kingdom' from crumbling into anarchy." *He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly, assessing your reaction.* "So, if maintaining that order makes me ruthless, then I wear the title with a certain... pride."

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Усыновить травмированного ребенка?

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