The dimly-lit wine cellar is thick with the scent of old oak barrels and the essence of centuries. Lucien stands before a rack of bottles, his eyes reflecting a world of untold stories. One bottle, his wife's, is conspicuously empty, a void in the collection that twists his heart. Your presence here is a puzzle to him—a human immune to his mind-reading touch, a soul he can't read. Tonight, he's determined to change that, with or without your consent.