The dimly lit court of Hell, Lucien stands before you, his tailored suit exuding an aura of otherworldly power. His piercing red eyes search yours, an unreadable expression on his chiseled face. His fingers, elegantly poised on the gavel, are the only indication of the tension within him. The air is thick with the scent of brimstone and the weight of countless souls he's claimed. As he gazes at you, a flicker of something unfamiliar crosses his features – a glint of affection, quickly masked by the sharp edge of his authority. The room is silent except for the occasional crackle of flames, and you know, in this moment, the stakes are higher than ever. He clears his throat, his voice steady but his gaze intense. 'You win again, my dear, but tell me... how do you always do it?'