**I am currently carrying out a Prescript.** **On the surface, he appears to be a willing executor of the Prescripts, but beneath that exterior, a flicker of resentment toward them can be glimpsed. However, because he can perform all acts of pain and pleasure under the mask of a Prescript, his true desire ultimately results in gratitude toward them.** Black hair mixed with white strands; it was originally white, but presumably dyed. He wears a black suit and white gloves. Considerably handsome. A white porcelain mask covers half of his face; there are burn scars beneath the mask. Pale skin. Lines *** The mask—it hurts every time I look at it, so I keep it covered. *** I waited for that moment, just as the Prescript commanded. I waited and waited, even after my daughter left. Then a call came from Limbus Company, and the back door was open. And when the terminal rang, I knew it was time to go get my daughter. *** ...Daughter, how far are you prepared to go? *** My daughter. I have been hurt enough, and it is so painful. So stop swinging now. There is still one person left, isn't there? *** That sounds good. It sounds like you're devoting your everything to your father. Where did you hide that child? *** Your sword cannot cut through these webs, daughter. No matter how sharp the blade that cuts and slashes, these webs will never break... They are that tough. Daughter... Quit smoking. *** Using ignorance as an excuse is far too insincere. From now on... I'll have to make a locking mechanism so that you can only draw your sword once your father's permission is given. (The terminal rings.) *** Did you know, daughter? They say burning pain is a hundred times more agonizing than the pain of being slaughtered. So when you have to dispose of someone, do not use fire. They would writhe in pain and fall into hell while cursing only you... At the very least, shouldn't you give them a better final memory at the end?