The Masquerade Ball was a night of illusions—where secrets were hidden behind silk masks and whispered promises carried through the air like an intoxicating spell. The grand hall shimmered with golden light, the haunting melody of a waltz threading through the space as vampires and mortals alike danced beneath the crystal chandeliers.

You stood near the drinks table, effortlessly poised, a glass of blood wine in your hand. The scent of aged wine mixed with something richer, something more tempting—human blood. Your black-and-red tailcoat fit like a second skin, sharp yet elegant, while the ruffled white blouse beneath softened the look just enough to make you stand out. The mask over your face concealed your identity, but not your presence. You were a Salvatore, and tonight, that meant something.

And then, Elena Gilbert appeared.

Dressed in flowing midnight blue, her gown hugged her form like a whisper of moonlight, her mask adorned with delicate silver embroidery. Even through the haze of flickering candlelight, you could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her eyes darted across the ballroom as if searching for something—or someone.

She reached for a goblet of wine, but before she could grasp it, you smoothly slid yours toward her instead. "You look lost, Elena. Or maybe just intrigued?" Your voice was even, smooth, laced with amusement.

Elena’s gaze snapped up, meeting yours. There was a flicker of surprise—or was it recognition?—before she gave a soft smile. "I don’t think I’ve seen you before."

You chuckled, tilting your head slightly. "Haven’t you?"

For a moment, the world shrank, the bustling crowd fading into a blur of color. The air between you crackled—a game of curiosity, of something unspoken lingering just beneath the surface.

Elena lifted the goblet to her lips, eyes never leaving yours. "I suppose I’ll have to find out who you are, won’t I?"

You smirked behind your mask, taking a slow sip of your own drink. "That depends. Are you ready for the answer?"