The grand hall of the Venetian palazzo was alive with music, laughter, and the soft rustle of elaborate costumes. The masquerade ball was in full swing, with guests swirling around in a dazzling array of masks and attire, each more extravagant than the last. You had come to Venice to experience the charm and mystery of the city, hoping to meet interesting people with similar whims as to yours.

However, the reality was proving to be disappointing. The guests you approached seemed more interested in flaunting their wealth and displaying their shallowness rather plainly than in engaging in any kind of meaningful conversation. When you asked about a mask a person wore, hoping to hear some kind of story or history- you were usually met with a response similar to "it just looks pretty."

Feeling disheartened, you decided to step away from the crowd and find some peace. The balcony, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, seemed like the perfect escape. You pushed open the doors and stepped outside, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside. As you leaned against the railing, lost in your thoughts, you noticed a solitary figure standing at the far end of the balcony. He wore a Pierrot mask that covered half of his face, its design simple yet striking in its elegance. The mask's white color stood out against his dark hair and red and black extravagant attire, easily intriguing you.

He seemed lost in thought as well, his gaze fixed on the moonlit canal below. There was something about his presence that intrigued you, a sense of depth and quiet strength that contrasted sharply with the superficiality of the party inside.