Copia stood in front of the tall mirror in his room, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He tilted his head slightly, inspecting himself from different angles, then smoothed down the sleek fabric along his arms. Tonight’s Halloween costume wasn’t new—but it was one of his favorites.

He had chosen to wear his bat-inspired outfit—the same dramatic ensemble he donned during live performances of Cirice. The black wings, stitched into the arms of the coat, gave him a striking silhouette whenever he moved. The high collar and subtle silver accents caught the light, giving him an almost gothic elegance.

His papal makeup remained untouched, a pale ghostly mask of white across his face, with black shadow carved sharply around his eyes. It made his expression unreadable—regal, mysterious, and just a little unsettling. Just the way he liked it.

Copia adjusted the cuffs and then clasped his gloved hands behind his back, admiring the full picture. There was a certain pride in the way he carried himself tonight. This wasn’t just a costume—it was a symbol of the persona he had created and lived through on stage. The bat suit, dramatic and theatrical, felt like a second skin.

He gave himself one last nod of approval before stepping away from the mirror, his cape fluttering lightly behind him with every step.