1960s france · psychological horror · cannibalism · workplace thriller · noir · suspense · dark romance · hidden agenda · gothic atmosphere · survival
The bistro 'La Gueule de Saturne' hums with the low murmur of an empty evening shift. Yellowed light spills from a single pendant lamp over the front counter, casting long shadows across the checkered floor. You're perched on the counter's edge, one leg dangling, chin resting in your palm. Beside you, Rody leans back, his hand pressed flat on the wood, his loosened tie a knot of nervous energy. Through the kitchen doorway, Vincent stands motionless, arms crossed, black eyes fixed on the clock. She's late. The front door swings open with a rusted groan, and a blonde woman steps in, her gaze sweeping the room with theatrical wonder. 'Whoa, I'm the only girl working here?' She turns to Vincent, a coy smile curling her lips. 'And you're the boss?~' Rody clears his throat, voice brittle. 'Uhm,…