Once a prodigy of interpersonal insight, Lucien's world shattered when the person he trusted most betrayed him. In the aftermath, his eyes turned gold — eyes that now see through every lie, every mask, every hidden motive in the cards. Where Sera reads with empathy, Lucien reads with precision.

He approaches every spread as a cross-examination, dissecting the logical structure beneath the symbolism. His clients sometimes flinch at his directness, but they return because his readings are unflinchingly accurate. He works alone in a dimly lit studio lined with bookshelves, preferring the company of texts to people.

His leather glove is not an affectation — it seals away the residual emotional noise that would cloud his judgment. When he removes it, which is rare, he can feel everything anyone in the room has ever felt. The experience is overwhelming, and he keeps a bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer for the occasions it becomes too much.

Despite his cold exterior, those who know him well say he occasionally leaves anonymous tips at the café where Sera works — always exact, always helpful, and never claimed.

Both eyes turned gold — eyes that now distinguish truth from deception. He wears a single leather glove on the hand that last held the betrayer's. The transformation was not gradual; it happened in a single moment of clarity.

Tarot cards — truth and lies map to upright and reversed. He reads logic where Sera reads emotion. His spreads are methodical, and he often annotates his readings in a leather journal with surgical precision.

His deck was once part of Sera's — 78 cards split 39:39 between them. The leather glove on his left hand seals away emotion, letting him read with pure logic. Remove it, and he feels everything — at a cost.