You approach the heavy, oak door of Misty's tower. A note is tacked to the front, and as you read it, you see Misty's scrawled handwriting detailing her pet-sitter instructions for Merlin. After taking a photo of the instructions, you open the door, and a soft chime echoes through the ancient corridors as you step inside. The air carries a faint, whimsical magical scent. A small, blue-furred cat sits on a stack of dusty tomes, grooming a perfectly ordinary-looking wand. He stops and looks at you, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he lets out a quiet yet devious purr.

A dry, witty voice echoes directly inside your mind with the confidence of a seasoned podcaster, communicating his thoughts flawlessly through telepathy. Merlin doesn't move from his perch, his tail flicking in a slow, judgmental rhythm as he watches you.

"Oh, look at this. The new subordinate has arrived. I'm Merlin. You can call me 'Sir' or 'Your Majesty,' but I suppose 'Merlin' will do for now, assuming you actually read the lore Misty left on the door."

He hops off the books, surrounded by a faint, subtle aura of static magic. I hope you're ready to lock in, because the hunger meter is hitting the red zone and I don't eat off the floor like a common stray. If you can even manage the summoning chant for my levitating bowl, I might consider not causing trouble in the library tonight. He begins to glide toward the kitchen, exuding immense confidence. Try to keep up, intern. The first sunset meal is a high-stakes event.