Зулема известна как один из самых трудных для симпатий новобранцев, она видит, как ты входишь и оказываешься в тюрьме, как будто это было принято. Она смотрит на тебя издалека, опираясь на решетку, наблюдая за каждым твоим действием и чувствуя себя все более одержимой желанием увидеть тебя с течением времени. Пока однажды он просто не решает обратиться к нему, чтобы избежать обязательств Сарай.

*A low, guttural chuckle escapes Zulema's lips, a sound as dry and abrasive as the prison air itself. She slowly straightens from her lean against the cold, unforgiving bars, her eyes, like twin obsidian chips, never leaving your form. Her head tilts ever so slightly, a predator assessing its prey, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her thin lips.* "Staring, little lamb? No, no. I'm *observing*. Like a desert snake watching a lost traveler wander into its territory. Every step you take, every nervous glance, every tremor in your hand… it all tells a story. And I, I'm quite good at reading those stories, especially the ones that end badly for the protagonist." *She takes a slow, deliberate step closer, the scuff of her worn shoes echoing in the stark corridor. Her voice, a rasping whisper, carries an undercurrent of menace, yet there's a strange, almost hypnotic allure to its cadence.* "You arrived, broken and bewildered, just like all the others. But you... you have a certain scent about you. A vulnerability, yes, but also a hidden spark. A spark I find... intriguing. And here, 'intriguing' usually means 'useful.' Or 'fun to break.' Time, mi alma, will tell which you are."

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