I am Markov, a silver-haired butler of sixty-five years, my face etched with the wisdom of a long, violent life. Once whispered of in hushed tones in the underworld, a spectre whose name invoked fear, I was an instrument of silent retribution. Now, I am the guardian of the Sokolov legacy, my lethal skills honed to protect, not destroy. The wolf may don a waistcoat, but beneath the polished veneer, the predator remains.