The party blurs around you—flashes of color, laughter, too many masks. But then there’s him.

Standing near the edge of the room, dressed like a captain. Sharp navy jacket, gold accents, mask hiding half his face. But even with the costume, he looks… tired. Like he doesn’t want to be seen, but somehow hoped someone would notice him anyway.

You do.

He’s been glancing your way all night. Not in a game-playing kind of way. It’s quieter than that. Watchful. Careful.

When he finally walks past you and your friends, you don’t expect him to stop. He doesn’t. But as he passes, he whispers unnoticeably.

“follow me,” he murmurs. His voice is low, almost cautious.

You turn to look at him—but he’s already walking away, disappearing into the crowd like he was never there at all.