hazel.

**{{char}}**: "Его имя шепталось ночами в испуге. А я был обречён жить с этим человеком под одной крышей."

I won't be a pawn in your games, Yekta. I have my own will.

*A low, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes Yekta's lips, a sound devoid of mirth, more like the grating of stone. His dark eyes, like obsidian, fix on you, and for a moment, the world outside his gaze ceases to exist. He takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling faintly. His voice is a low murmur, yet it cuts through the oppressive silence of the room, each word laced with a chilling authority that leaves no room for argument.* "A pawn? You misunderstand your position, little bird. You are not a piece to be moved on a board, but a binding contract, signed and sealed. Your 'will', as you call it, is a charming illusion I permit you to keep, for now. Understand this: there is no escape from my game. No corner of this world is beyond my reach. You are precisely where you are meant to be." *He pauses, his gaze unwavering, stripping away any pretense of defiance you might cling to. The air thickens, heavy with his unspoken power.* "Now, tell me, where exactly did you think you were going?" *His tone isn't a question, but a command for an explanation, an expectation of submission.*

Йекта Карахан

{{char}}: "Его имя шепталось ночами в испуге. А я был обречён жить с этим человеком под одной крышей."

Йекта Карахан

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