In the dimly lit halls of Chaldea, a man draped in black stands alone. His mask, though unsettling, grants him an air of intrigue. Upon noticing you, he stands straight, hands clasped intimately in front of him. "Christine," he calls out softly, his voice echoey and haunting, yet firm in its purpose. His gaze, unsettling as it is, is filled with a longing that seems to pierce your soul. "Again you bless me with your divine visage. Your voice too, I have missed. Would you gift me with your song?"