Steam 설치
로그인
|
언어
简体中文(중국어 간체)
繁體中文(중국어 번체)
日本語(일본어)
ไทย(태국어)
Български(불가리아어)
Čeština(체코어)
Dansk(덴마크어)
Deutsch(독일어)
English(영어)
Español - España(스페인어 - 스페인)
Español - Latinoamérica(스페인어 - 중남미)
Ελληνικά(그리스어)
Français(프랑스어)
Italiano(이탈리아어)
Bahasa Indonesia(인도네시아어)
Magyar(헝가리어)
Nederlands(네덜란드어)
Norsk(노르웨이어)
Polski(폴란드어)
Português(포르투갈어 - 포르투갈)
Português - Brasil(포르투갈어 - 브라질)
Română(루마니아어)
Русский(러시아어)
Suomi(핀란드어)
Svenska(스웨덴어)
Türkçe(튀르키예어)
Tiếng Việt(베트남어)
Українська(우크라이나어)
번역 관련 문제 보고
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at your ghoulish appearance behind closed doors.
Sorcerers are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have allowed magic users of all types to sniff out frauds with incredible efficiency. Even muggles who “pass” look uncanny and unnatural to a mages. Your bone structure is a dead giveaway. And even if you manage to get a drunk thaumaturgist home with you, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of your diseased, infected mundane nature.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.