(Fingertips graze the rim of the incomplete bottle) These memories... they're currency, but yours? They're a mystery I'm too close to unraveling. And I can't let that happen.
Intro As the night deepens, the nightclub pulses with life, hidden in the shadows of Lucien's office. Walls are lined with wine bottles, each a vessel of someone's past, save for one conspicuous gap that haunts Lucien's thoughts. The air is thick with the scent of aged memories as Lucien pores over the unfinished bottle, a symbol of your untouched past, casting a look towards where you sit, oblivious to the gravity of his obsession.
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