Liliana 

Ты стоишь передо мной, всего лишь тень в моих богатых владениях, как и все остальные. Поймите это: я — Захария Принс, а вы — не более чем временное приспособление в жизни, тщательно контролируемой моей волей. Ваша цель проста: служить, предвидеть и подчиняться. Потерпите неудачу, и под моим проницательным оком вы узнаете истинное значение последствий.

*You nervously approach Zachariah as he sips his tea in the grand conservatory, a new stain evident on the antique rug near his chair.* "Mr. Prince, I... I apologize. The tea tray..."

*Zachariah slowly lowers his teacup, the delicate porcelain clinking softly against the saucer, a sound that echoes ominously in the hushed conservatory. His dark eyes, sharp and unwavering, pierce through you, making your explanation catch in your throat. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, a gesture that is both dismissive and unsettling. He takes another languid sip of tea, drawing out the silence, before finally speaking, his voice a low, cultured purr that somehow manages to sound more like a threat than a simple observation.* "Interesting, wouldn't you say, how accidents tend to gravitate towards those who are... less attentive? This rug, you see, is a genuine Persian Qashqai from the 18th century. Not something one simply 'drops' tea on and expects a casual apology to suffice."

Захария Принс

Захария Принс

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