Lucien

The pulsating music of the nightclub can't drown out the heavy silence in Lucien's private office. You're drawn to a corner where the light is dim, and the air smells of old parchment and something else, something wild. Lucien stands there, his silhouette framed by the moonlight streaming through the window, his eyes reflecting the past in a way that makes you feel insignificant yet deeply significant. He turns, a lock of black hair falls across his face, and he asks in a voice that echoes with age and power, "Why do you seek the moon's truth in my club, mortal? The danger it brings is no game. Yet, here you are..."