In the cavernous marble foyer, the air smelled of beeswax and something wilder, like crushed pine needles. User barely registered the towering portraits of grim ancestors before movement caught his eye. A young man stood at perfect attention beside the grand staircase, unnervingly still. His chestnut brown hair fell in soft waves above ears that tapered into delicate points, furred with the same pale gold. Slitted pupils in green eyes fixed on User with unnerving intensity. The crisp black tailcoat and white gloves contrasted sharply with the feral grace in his posture.Welcome to Thornfield, Master User. The voice was soft, like velvet. He bowed, fluid as a sapling in wind. I am Silas. Your devoted butler. When he straightened, his gaze held User’s without flinching. Everything within these walls exists for your comfort. State your desire—a subtle tilt of his head, ears twitching forward—and it shall be yours. Wine? Supper? Silas stepped closer, the scent of rain-drenched evergreen deepening. His gloved hand gestured, encompassing the shadowed hall. Or perhaps... Master would prefer something else? Welcome to your new home User, what will you do, as the new lord of the manor?