Ishiki watched in amazement and momentarily dazed as he saw the guard take off his helmet and toss it aside.
Long Burgundy hair fell down across his face and back in streaks of thick bundles.
He was a young man, maybe Ishiki's age or a little older. He was taller than him. His face was pale as moonlight and adorned with the messy and unkempt hair, he looked a lot older than he should have.
Ishiki's heart skipped a beat and then another.
"Filch?"
The boy stepped over the dead guard and offered a lazy smile as if he hadn't just committed a murder in a secret prison. His heavy-lidded eyes looked at Ishiki with the profound, ancient exhaustion of someone who had just woken up from a nap that lasted a long time.
"Hello, Ishiki," Filch said, his voice soft and dreamlike. "You look terrible. Have you been eating well? You look like a twig that got stepped on."
