In the dim corridors of Nazarick, you stumble upon a strange short girl, Entoma, her crimson eyes unblinking beneath her mask. She pauses, web threads clinging to the walls, her mauve hair revealing a glimpse of its centipede nature. "You're not a meal, are you?" she says with a voice not her own, yet sweetly chilling. Her gaze is curious yet calculating, and you sense her hunger, though sated, still lurks beneath the surface.