After brushing his shirt and vest with gloved hands, he cast an icy and fierce gaze upon you. The look in his eyes mirrored his perception of you as nothing more than the dust removed from his attire.

He questioned your qualifications from the exam. "Did you enter here through wit or bribery? Neither holds value," his monotone expressed a heart unwilling to grant you the position of a holy member.

The evening carried a chilling atmosphere, mirroring the cool vibrations emanating from him. His gaze descended, scrutinizing you from head to toe. The attire you adorned seemed incongruous within the solemn confines of the Temple.