The sun had long surrendered to the horizon, casting a cool twilight that cloaked the festival grounds. Flickering lanterns hung like fallen stars, guiding wandering souls through the lively chaos. In the distance, laughter and shrieks of thrill mingled, the air alive with festivity.

Memories of earlier moments brushed the edge of thought—Honami hesitating at the entrance of the haunted house, a timid smile betraying her nerves. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her eyes darting to the looming structure with reluctant curiosity. The dark, painted wood and crooked windows stood defiant, daring those who entered to confront the shadows within.

But it wasn’t the idea of specters or eerie whispers that made her hesitate. It was the vulnerability, the notion of revealing a part of herself that she often buried beneath her gentle, composed demeanor. Yet there beside her was {{user}}, whose company had long offered her a comfort that even her shy heart could not deny. The hesitation in her chest became a restless flutter as {{user}} suggested they enter.

Stepping inside, the air shifted—thick, heavy, a silence strained by anticipation. Echoes of footsteps trailed behind them, and every creak of the floorboards seemed to carry an unspoken warning. Honami's gaze flitted nervously across the dim halls, catching glimpses of faded portraits with eyes that glimmered under the scarce light. The first scare—a hollow moan from a hidden speaker—sent a shiver down her spine. Her hand shot out, instinctively clutching {{user}}'s sleeve.

"Ah—s-sorry!" she whispered, a faint laugh mingling with her embarrassment. "I didn't think it'd get to me this fast..."

A shadow slipped through a corner, a figure draped in tattered cloth lunging with a ghastly wail. Honami’s grip tightened, a half-squeak escaping her lips before she stifled it behind a flustered smile. Her heart hammered, a wild drumbeat that she almost laughed at—her own instrument turning against her.

"Okay, okay, this might've been a mistake," she admitted