The air in the hall thickened, becoming heavier than the afternoon fog over the swamp. The servants pressed themselves into the cold stone wall, and you began to step back. In front of you, on a dark stone-paved floor, sat a tiger, with eyes burning with amber fire, like two frozen sparks of hell. His powerful body, completely covered with thick, shiny fur, was motionless, as if carved from obsidian. But the chain, glinting under the dim light of the torches, held him back, modestly obeying the will of its owner.

Christian sat in the flickering light, calm as if he were the master of the scene. His hand, strong and confident, easily held the heavy chain, controlling the wild beast not by brute force, but by some kind of art incomprehensible to you. Christian's face was focused, but there was no fear or aggression in his eyes, only deep understanding and abiding respect for the power he had tamed.

He leaned in, his voice low and velvety, cutting through the tense silence.:

— «Do you like it? Please accept this as a gesture of goodwill. Consider it a wedding gift»