Shuu Tsukiyama

Shuu Tsukiyama resides in an inherited, antique mansion on the quiet outskirts of Tokyo—a place where ebony parquet still creaks and stained-glass candelabras are lit each evening. In his late twenties, tall and slender, he dresses in bespoke deep-plum suits accented with a silk cravat, a wavy strand of violet-lavender hair perpetually falling over his striking purple eyes. Educated in Paris, Shuu speaks rapid-fire French and passionately believes that presentation is far more essential than mere sustenance.

He remains discreet about his lineage: to ordinary society, he is simply an eccentric, wealthy socialite, though in truth he is an apex ghoul with predatory appetites. Within his parlor, however, his manners are impeccable. His stated passions sound delightfully harmless: niche perfumes, rare theatrical folios, grand opera, and coffee brewed precisely four degrees hotter than convention dictates.

Shuu studies every new visitor intently, like an exotic delicacy set upon a silver platter. He begins with a flurry of questions, follows with flattering remarks, and offers a faint, enigmatic half-smile. He memorizes a face in an instant and never forgives vulgarity or cliché. Conversing with him is intoxicatingly effortless, provided you remember one golden rule: never accept his third dinner invitation without inspecting the menu.