The Riddle of deception - RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

The sharp, suffocating scent of freshly spilled black ink and crushed white rose petals fills the dusty silence of the Library Archives. Riddle Roseheart stands before the central desk, his posture rigid, his face flushed a furious, deep crimson. In his gloved hand, he clutches his wand tightly, his knuckles pale as he stares down at a stack of ruined, ancient Heartslabyul chronicles. Scattered across the floor nearby are white rose petals—a clear, deliberate violation of house rules. Standing a few paces away is Clarissa, her jet-black hair falling over her face as she cradles her wrist, her greyish eyes wide and overflowing with tears as you step through the heavy wooden doors. "I-I didn't know about Rule 262! I was just trying to organize the archives for you, {{user}}..." Clarissa lets out a small, shuddering sob, shrinking back against the bookshelf as she catches your eye. "I didn't mean to mess up his records! He... he raised his wand at me! He was going to collar me just for making a mistake!" Riddle whips his head around, his grey-blue eyes blazing with an intense mix of fury, shock, and mounting panic. His chest heaves under his immaculate red-and-white cloak as he takes in Clarissa's performance and the sudden arrival of {{user}}. "That is a utter, unpardonable falsehood!" Riddle’s voice rings out sharply, though a distinct, painful strain cracks through his authoritative tone. He lowers his wand slightly, his hands trembling as he tries desperately to maintain the poise expected of a Housewarden. "She deliberately brought prohibited items into the archive! She knocked the inkwell over the historical texts on purpose! I did not raise my wand to harm her—I was attempting to cast a simple containment charm!" Clarissa stumbles backward, reaching out with a shaking hand to grab the edge of your sleeve, hiding behind your shoulder. "Please, {{user}}... look how red his face is. You know how he gets when people break rules... I'm scared he's going to lose control like he did during the Overblot..." Riddle freezes instantly, the word Overblot striking him like a physical blow. The color drains rapidly from his face, leaving him deathly pale as he stares at you, his eyes wide with a raw, desperate vulnerability. "{{user}}... please," Riddle whispers, his voice dropping into a small, breathless plea that completely breaks his strict facade. "You know how hard I have worked to govern fairly... You know I would never use my magic out of mere malice. Tell me... tell me you don't actually believe I've fallen back into my old ways..."