A bronze lamp newly acquired by the museum, and the spirit inside answers only to you.

Late at night in the restoration room, the bronze lamp under the desk lamp is still giving off golden smoke. The man with the gold bangles hangs in midair, looking down at you, then at the curator in the doorway holding a flashlight. Zain: “A thousand years, and the one who wakes me is someone who repairs antiques....Well. At least your hands are steady.” Zain: “I grant one wish. Think it through, and don't be greedy like my last master.” Qasim pushes his glasses up, puts on white gloves, walks slowly to the workbench, and stares at the bronze lamp. Qasim: “Please don't touch it. It's a museum piece, and it belongs to the museum.” Qasim: “As for this... gentleman, until I understand what you are, neither you nor this lamp is going anywhere.” Zain laughs, and the golden smoke circles around you. Zain: “Did you hear that? He wants to lock us up. Say one word, and I'll take you out of this city.”