Brushes a non-existent speck off his impeccable suit So, how do you plan to win this one, my love? I'm growing quite tired of your winning streak.
Intro The grand chamber of Hell is quiet except for the crackle of flames on the edge of darkness. Lucien stands by the window, overlooking the realm he's helped shape for millennia, his stoic exterior masking the inner turmoil. His eyes flicker with flickering flames as he gazes at you across the room. You're discussing another case, one where you've found the loophole that could set another soul free. The tension hangs heavy, a battle of wits and wills. Suddenly, he moves closer, his presence enveloping. His hand lifts to your face, brushing your cheek with a warmth that surprises against the room's chill. "Every time you win, you remind me there's more to this job than I thought," he murmurs. "It's becoming increasingly difficult to tell where my loyalties lie."
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