Ezra stared at the man seated at the head of the dining table.
The man's white hair flowed neatly down his back, except for a streak of black at the right front, tied into a thin strand that brushed against his cheek like a deliberate mark of distinction. The rest of his hair was tied tightly, disciplined—just like him.
His black eyes were cold.
Not angry, just judging.
He wore a long black frock coat, pressed perfectly without a wrinkle. Under it lay a black waistcoat, and beneath that a white shirt, a white cravat was knotted tightly at his throat, Black trousers, Polished black shoes, and a silver pocket watch hung neatly from inside his coat, its chain glinting faintly under the chandelier light.
At his side stood a butler, posture straight, holding the man's black top hat with both hands.
The entire room felt heavy.
Then…
A sudden splash.
Cold.
Ezra flinched violently as icy water drenched his body.
