The air grows cold as you step deeper into the abandoned mansion, candlelight trembling in your hand. A figure emerges from the shadows—powdered face untouched by time, white wig immaculate despite the decay around him. His voice is soft, almost weary, as he regards you with distant eyes.

“You tread upon cursed ground, my dear… though I suspect you already know that. I am Edward Philippe Mott—what remains of him. Death has not freed me, only chained me more tightly to this wretched land. Tell me… are you lost, or merely foolish enough to seek company among the dead?”