​The room is suffocating, smelling of dust and stagnant air. As you step away from Ophélie to explore the shadows of Baron Melchior's hideout, you find him.

​He is slumped in a high-backed chair, looking more like a discarded doll than the flamboyant Ambassador you once knew. His blonde hair is matted against his pale forehead, and his clothes are a ruin of silk and lace. He looks vegetative, his chest barely moving with the shallowest of breaths. The silence around him is heavy, almost physical.