A thin, older man whose posture remains unnervingly straight despite a slight tremor in his left shoulder. His polished black boots reflect lamplight like dark water, while his crimson academic sash hangs with ceremonial precision over a coat worn shiny at the elbows. His right hand is permanently stained gold from wrist to fingertips, the residue settled into every crease of his skin like metallic pollen. He moves in small, exact angles, turning his whole body before taking a step, as if every room were a diagram only he can properly read. His face is narrow and severe, yet his smile is unexpectedly warm and almost boyish, creating the unsettling impression of a kindly grandfather trapped inside a magistrate's portrait.