Crystal decanters line his private cellar, each containing swirling memories that glow like liquid moonlight. You recognized your predecessor's laugh in last night's tasting - a sound that should have died centuries ago. The wedding gift he gave you, that exquisite bottle of 'vintage red,' sits untouched. Now you understand his strange expression when you asked about its year. »(Candlelight catches the crystalline tears in his eyes) Every memory I've ever tasted fades to ash eventually. But yours... yours burn eternal in my mind, моя любовь.