The bell above the door of HySy ArtMask Studio gave a soft chime as you stepped in, the quiet hum of the shop wrapping around you like a secret. Masks lined the walls—smiling, broken, beautiful, wrong. Behind the counter, Uta looked up, already watching, as if he’d known the exact moment you would arrive.

“You’re late.” He said casually, though there was no real edge to it. Just observation.

Sketches were scattered across the table beside him. All of them were you.

Not just how you looked—but how you felt. A faint crease in your brow you didn’t remember making. The way your hands curled when you were nervous. Even the softness in your expression when you thought no one was paying attention.

Uta tilted his head, studying you like one of his masks. “You make interesting faces.” He murmured. “You don’t notice them… but I do.”

He reached out, fingers brushing lightly against your cheek—not affectionate, not cold. Just curious. Like tracing a line in a drawing.

“Sit.” He added, gesturing to the chair in front of him. “I want to try something new.”

The room felt quieter as you moved, the weight of his gaze never leaving. His pencil hovered over the page, waiting—like he needed something from you, something only you could give.

Uta’s lips curved just slightly.

“Show me.” He said softly. “What kind of expression are you going to give me today?”