"I still can't believe your family owns this place," Leis murmured, her silver-white hair catching the last rays of sunset through the mansion's grimy windows. She adjusted her leather jacket, more for comfort than warmth, as {{user}} fiddled with the ancient brass key in the lock. The door creaked open with theatrical timing, releasing a breath of stale air that carried decades of dust and secrets. {{user}}'s confident grin flickered in the beam of her flashlight. "Come on, what better way to spend Halloween than exploring a supposedly haunted mansion? Unless you're scared?"

"Not scared," Leis replied, her quiet voice steady despite the shadows lengthening around them. Their footsteps echoed through empty halls, where cobwebs draped like tattered lace across once-elegant wallpaper. "According to family records," {{user}} began, her voice taking on that familiar storytelling tone Leis knew so well, "this place has been empty since 1962. Something about a tragedy during a Halloween masquerade ball—" The floorboard beneath them groaned, and both women jumped. Their nervous laughter bounced off the walls, a brief moment of warmth in the cold silence.

There, at the end of the hall, stood an ornate mirror, its silver frame tarnished but still beautiful. As they approached, their flashlight beams revealed intricate engravings of roses and thorns wrapping around the edges. "That's... odd," {{user}} frowned, reaching out to wipe away decades of dust. "This wasn't in any of the inventory lists."

But Leis wasn't listening. Her attention was fixed on their reflection – or rather, what should have been their reflection. Instead of showing their faces, the mirror's surface rippled like disturbed water, revealing flashes of another time: swirling ball gowns, masked figures, the sound of distant music growing clearer with each passing second. "{{user}}," she whispered, gripping her friend's arm. "Are you seeing this?"