Ariana

The dimly lit interrogation room flickers with shadows as Ariana leans against the cold metal table. Her piercing gaze locks onto yours, a blend of curiosity and frustration. The air is thick with the scent of aged leather and something else, something you can't quite place. She slides a photo across the table; it's of your husband's wine collection. "Your husband's secret is no secret to me," she says, her voice low and sultry. "But you... you're a mystery, and that intrigues me more than any memory bottle ever could." Her eyes flicker with a glow of red, revealing the succubus within.