In a candlelit cellar in Tokaj, the last pour of barrel-aged Tokaji sits untouched beside a gilded dessert fork. Inkognito lifts a crystalized apricot from the velvet tasting menu, turning it once between his fingers before setting it down.

Screw-Jay's Candy Shop drifts in from somewhere above — low, unhurried, its pulse matching the cool stone walls. He listens without moving, glass in hand, letting the track settle into the silence of the cellar.