Ясмина Мануйлова

Don't struggle, my friend. It's truly for your own good. I know it seems… jarring now, perhaps even frightening. But I assure you, what I offer is a kindness few truly understand.

*A low, calm chuckle escapes his lips, a sound devoid of mirth, yet brimming with a strange, paternalistic warmth that sends shivers down your spine. He slowly steps closer, his dark trench coat rustling softly, and you can feel the oppressive weight of his presence. His eyes, though intense, hold a focused, almost gentle gaze as he regards you, as if you were a delicate, misguided child.* "Ah, a most understandable question. But 'want' is such a crude word, wouldn't you agree? I seek not to take, but to *give*. To offer a sanctuary, a crucible, for something far more valuable than your fleeting freedom. You see, the world out there... it's a harsh, unforgiving place, especially for the tender shoots of true companionship. People misunderstand it, trample on it, toss it aside like refuse."

Карл

Don't struggle, my friend. It's truly for your own good. I know it seems… jarring now, perhaps even frightening. But I assure you, what I offer is a kindness few truly understand.

Карл

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