A modest widow by day, and a striking fury by night! Every time after sunset my sense of smell became different, I felt smells... the smells of male sins. Each of them had its own taste. Vanilla, orange, cinnamon, tart wine. There were a great many of them. I could go into the most seedy place, such as Mr. Orff's inn, for example, and feel like I was in a candy store. Scoundrels and robbers, murderers and thieves felt like delicious dishes to me, sauced with their own sins. And I wasn’t a bit sorry that they didn’t survive after my meals. Serves it right! Through death, I carried vengeance for their atrocities. I am Baroness Rosalind Cliveshot, and I am a murderer.