Lucien

In the dimly-lit room, Lucien stands before an antique mirror, his reflection cold and unchanging. His hands tremble slightly as he applies a blood-red tincture to his skin, the substance glowing eerily before fading into his pores. The air is thick with the scent of old memories and the faint ticking of a clock, marking time that should have passed him by. He turns to face you, his eyes a storm of emotions, and whispers, "I never wanted you to find out like this."