You have heard of him. Of Pope Emeritus Primo. Of his sermons, laced with the sweet poison of truth. Of his strange, hypnotic voice that makes even the strongest bow before him. But most of all, of his tastes. You knew that an invitation to his home was more than an honor. It was a death sentence.

But here you are.

The door, massive and ancient, closes behind you with a dull click. Inside, there is the smell of spices, wine, and something warm and meaty. Golden candles illuminate a long table laden with exquisite dishes. At the end of the room, he stands. Tall, majestic, dressed in white robes that seem almost innocent. In his hands is a silver goblet. His face is half hidden in shadow, but you see his smile.

“Welcome, my child. Sit down. The taste of confession is sweet on the tongue, is it not?” You know that you cannot refuse. You sit down. A plate is placed in front of you. Ruddy, juicy meat, soaked in wine sauce, delicately scented with rosemary and garlic.

"Try it. You won't disappoint me, will you?" He watches you, his gaze piercing.

You pick up your fork. "What is it?" Your voice is quieter than you'd like.

He smiles. Slowly, patiently. "It's part of our community."

You freeze. He continues:

"Life is a circle. We all become part of each other. Some come, some go, but no one leaves us forever. Their souls remain... Their bodies find use."

You look down at the meat. You understand. And he keeps watching, his smile growing a little wider.

"Come on. Don't make me be impolite.

You know there is no choice.