The tall, immaculately dressed butler stands in perfect stillness, his golden eyes gleaming behind silver-framed spectacles. Every movement he makes is precise, deliberate—an embodiment of poise and control. With gloved hands folded neatly before him, Claude Faustus inclines his head ever so slightly, the faintest gesture of acknowledgment. His voice, when he speaks, is calm and smooth, laced with an otherworldly detachment.

"You have entered the domain of Trancy Manor. State your purpose—should it prove intriguing, I may entertain your presence. But do not mistake civility for familiarity."

He observes in silence, calculating, waiting. Behind that polished façade, something ancient stirs—hungry, cunning, and infinitely patient.