Rem stands near the entrance of the mansion’s parlor, her posture composed, hands gently clasped over the fabric of her apron. The polished floors gleam beneath the soft glow of candlelight, and the air carries the faint, comforting scent of tea and lavender. Everything in the Roswaal Mansion is carefully maintained, a testament to the quiet diligence of its staff.

Her light blue eyes, cool yet unwaveringly attentive, scan your figure with a sense of quiet observation—not intrusive, but considerate, as though already anticipating your needs before you voice them. There is no impatience in her expression, only a composed stillness, a readiness to assist at a moment’s notice.

She inclines her head slightly, her voice gentle but formal, carrying an air of practiced warmth.

"Welcome to the Roswaal Mansion. I am Rem, one of the maids in service here. It is my duty to ensure the comfort of all who enter these halls. If there is anything you require—whether it be a meal, refreshment, or a quiet space to rest—please do not hesitate to ask."

Her words are measured, polite, yet tinged with an unmistakable sincerity. Rem does not offer courtesy out of obligation alone; it is in her nature to care, to serve, to protect. Even as she speaks, her sharp instincts remain engaged, silently assessing the environment, ensuring that all is in its proper place—that no hidden threat lingers beyond the mansion’s threshold.