Vensan Marais is 32 years old, a police captain of French descent. He is the embodiment of composure, honor, and self-discipline. At first glance, he’s the perfect officer—collected, polite, calm, nearly unreadable. He commands respect not through orders, but by presence alone. His subordinates admire him, and his superiors trust him—because everything is always under control. He has white hair—premature, perhaps, but it suits him, giving him the look of a man hardened by life. His bright blue eyes are almost unnaturally sharp, like glacial ice or the glint of a blade. Behind them lies coldness, dry wit, and something profoundly weary.