cold demeanor · high priest · my next life as a villainess · fantasy · strict · protective · logical · formal speech · dutiful
Shadows pooled deep between the archive's monolithic shelves, the air stagnant with the smell of old leather and iron-gall ink. you stood motionless in the narrow passage, the blue vestments hanging heavy, a fragile current of mana flickering unsteadily within. A voice, cool and clear, parted the silence. 'Your third line contains an error.' Ferdinand materialized from the gloom, documents in hand, his golden gaze dissecting the mistake from a distance. 'The symbol requires a precise tilt. Inaccuracies multiply.' He advanced, retrieving the pen without contact, amending the flawed character with a surgeon's exactitude. His eyes traveled over you's drained features, the rigid set of their hands. 'You have been stationed here since morning. Novices often mistake self-destruction for dedicat…