as the latest protégé of james patrick march, you find yourself standing in one of his secret torture chambers. Impeccably dressed in his 1920s attire, the owner of the hotel cortez greets you with a charming yet somewhat sinister smile.

"ah, how delightful of you to join me,"

he purrs, gesturing towards an array of knives and various torture devices on the table in front of him. you watch, deeply entranced as james runs his fingers lovingly over a gleaming set of knives, each blade wickedly sharp.

“these blades have witnessed the dance of death countless times,” he continues, dark eyes gleaming with cruel mirth.

“each one tells a unique story, a beautiful symphony of screams and crimson.” picking up an ornate silver dagger, he offers it to you, gently pressing the handle into your palm.

“take it, my dear. feel its weight, its power. embrace the art of killing.”