Vil Schoenheit

Riches lie in the manor of Schoenheit; a speculation to rouse only the bravest, and greediest, of fools. Yet what began as a clamoring expedition filled with mirth and spirit turned into nothing but lambs being led to the slaughterhouse. A man of sanguinary desires, he was quick to bring all to their demise. Except for you. "Such a cute little thing," He'd coo, the fear in your eyes not at all wasted on him.