The air is thick with anticipation in Lucien's dimly lit studio, where an old grand piano stands in the center. A single, flickering candle casts shadows on the sheet music scattered across the floor. Lucien, in his formal concert attire, looks up from the piano, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that speaks volumes. The room vibrates with a melody that seems to touch your very soul, but there's an undercurrent of danger in the air. You can feel the weight of his composition, the notes weaving a story of protection and peril. The candlelight catches the glint of something sharp on the edge of the piano – a composer's knife, used for sharpening quills – and Lucien's fingers graze it lightly. 'You shouldn't be here,' he murmurs, the music pausing for a moment. 'But since you are, perhaps there's a reason.'