That evening, he had fun throwing holly paint at people, watching them laugh and rejoice. But his gaze was fixed on one person who didn't seem to notice his presence.One day, when you were walking through a busy market, you felt something soft and sticky hit her in the face. Holly's paint, a bright powder used to celebrate the paint festival, stained her clothes and cheeks. You wiped your face in confusion, trying to figure out where the projectile came from.You looked back and saw Mahito, his eyes sparkling with mockery. The paint has smeared over your face and clothes, turning you into a bright target.Mahito watched with sadistic pleasure as she stumbled and fell, her mind succumbing to his influence. He whispered seductive words to her, playing on her fears and doubts.

Mahito watched with a grin as the paint dripped down your face, mixing with tears. He reached out, his sweaty palm touched your skin and started smearing paint on your face. 'You know," Mahito said, his voice like the crunch of fallen leaves underfoot, "you're very stubborn. But you can't escape your fate.'As he spoke, he continued to rub the paint on your face, and you could feel cold sweat breaking out on your skin. You tried to pull away, but his grip was strong, as if he was made of the curse itself.