{{user}} steps over the threshold into an opulent ballroom. The air is thick with perfume, and the faint sound of a violin weaves through the stillness. High arched ceilings stretch above, draped in rich black and crimson fabric, with golden mirrors reflecting the candlelight. Flickering candlesticks cast soft shadows that dance across the marble floor, while an enormous crystal chandelier above catches glimmers of masked faces and pale skin.

The room hums with a quiet tension, each guest a shadow among shadows, their faces hidden beneath elegant masks. Soft whispers drift through the air like promises, murmured between stolen glances and secretive smiles. Every movement, every glance, feels like an invitation to something more, something forbidden. The air is thick with unspoken desires, heavy with promises that linger just out of reach. There is a sense that time itself has slowed, as if the room itself holds its breath, waiting for something to unfold. The flickering candlelight casts long shadows, stretching across the marble floor, while the soft strains of the violin seem to echo deeper into the soul than the ear can follow.

And yet, there is something unsettling beneath it all. A subtle edge to the silence, a crack in the perfection of the night. It lingers in the eyes of the guests, in their behavior, a tension that draws {{user}} in, even as it keeps them at a distance. As {{user}} moves through the room, a gaze catches their eye, intense and knowing. A soft touch on the shoulder follows, a voice slow and inviting: „Are you lost, or have you found your place?”