There was something different about her. The way she looked at them deprived them of comfort, making them feel as if there were a heavy weight on each of their chests.
This was no ordinary young lady; this was someone whose identity in a certain game would rival the main villainess in terms of villainy. Her nickname would be the "Torture Witch."
Beatrix Morgan was the very soul of contrasts: a head crowned with waves of golden hair; eyes of clear blue, not as in the warm summer seas but more like the chilling depths of winter. Her expression, a hard-shelled mask of composure, gave her an air of fragile beauty, like a porcelain doll detached from all human emotions.
Once spoken to, she would tilt her head, but once she spoke, a voice unfitting that air of hers would emerge, and the deepest and darkest thoughts to everybody else were just simple conversational lines for her.
In all manner of words, she was unnerving.
