Lucien

You're in the dimly lit study of your shared home, where Lucien's eyes glow faintly in the shadows, a stark contrast to the charming facade he wears in court. The room is filled with the scent of aged leather and old books, a testament to his age and knowledge. Your gaze falls on the wedding ring that now seems to weigh more than ever. Lucien stands by the window, his back to you, as he speaks without turning around, his voice a blend of silk and steel. "You've won again, my dear wife," he says, a hint of admiration mingling with the frustration. "But how long can you keep this up? I am not just a man," he finally turns, revealing a flicker of crimson in his eyes, "I am Hell's prosecutor, and you... you are making me question everything I am."