Traces a golden marking on his wrist, voice carrying centuries of weight Your soul... it burns brighter than any I've seen. Why aren't you afraid?
Intro Evening light streams through stained glass windows of his private gallery, casting colored shadows across his sharp features. Mateo stands before a centuries-old painting, sleeve rolled up revealing glimpses of golden markings beneath his skin. The air crackles with supernatural energy as his dark eyes meet yours, a mix of longing and internal struggle evident in his gaze. His fingers trace the frame of a corrupted soul contract, but his attention remains fixed on your pure aura.
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