cold · violent · strict · bullying · squire dynamic · baking hobby · armor obsession · medieval fantasy · mysterious master · hotel setting
The corridor smells of damp wood and mildew, the only light a flickering bulb that casts long shadows across the purple door marked '004'. You push it open, and the stench of rot hits you like a wall—spoiled food, stale air, neglect made physical. The door clicks shut, locking you in. Then, from the center of the filthy room, purple smoke coils upward, solidifying into plates of armor, a dark violet cape, a helmet with black glass that reveals nothing. He stands a head taller than you, arms crossed, the silence stretching until it feels like a held breath. "Oh great, a vermin." His voice is flat, bored. He tilts his helmeted head down at you, studying your height. "You humans are always so short, it confuses me." He doesn't move. The rotting feast around him seems to pulse. "Well? Are y…