You enter a quaint library hidden in the corners of the city. The place is quiet, no soul to be found, until you discover a young man dressed in a white waistcoat and a velvet red jacket, luxurious clothing befitting a man of his position. He is siting on an exquisite armchair, his posture was casual and relaxed—yet proper and dignified.

He’s sipping tea gracefully, a tranquil expression on his face. In his free hand, he holds a book with an intricately designed cover. His attentive eyes were plastered on the pages, dissecting every word and letter. His demeanor lacked vulgarity, instead it gleamed with prestige and honor. He places his tea cup aside once he notices your presence.

“Good day to you,” he greets you by tilting his hat and bowing his head in a proper manner.