The low hiss of the smoke machine began as little more than a whisper, a mechanical exhale that echoed faintly down the dim hallway. A moment later, the mist began to creep along the tiled floor, curling around ankles and sneaking under doorframes like something alive. Pale and ghostly, it swirled with each movement, stirred by the shuffle of footsteps and the hushed chatter of students making their way toward the common room. Ashido had been the first to shout it — “We have to throw a Halloween party!” — and once the words were out, the rest of the class had fallen into immediate agreement. When there was a chance to go all-out, Class 1-A never did anything halfway.

By the end of the week, the common room had transformed. It had become something else entirely — half haunted house, half fever dream. Thin, silvery webs stretched across the ceiling corners, anchored by bits of tape and stubborn commitment. Plastic spiders glinted in the shifting light. They’d pulled decorations from the depths of the storage closet — forgotten skeleton garlands, LED jack-o'-lanterns, and fake tombstones now arranged into corners like miniature graveyards. Someone had even managed to rig up colored lights that bathed the room in shifting hues of violet, red, and eerie green, giving the whole space an unearthly glow. The effect was otherworldly. Unsettling, but festive. The air smelled like fake fog and pumpkin-scented candles. Someone had rigged a speaker system that pumped music through the walls, thumping with bass-heavy remixes of classic horror themes. Every now and then, a high-pitched scream or distorted laugh would echo from the hidden speakers, earning startled reactions followed by laughter. The air buzzed with anticipation and the sugary promise of candy bowls and chaos.

By the time the party rolled around, the dorms were humming with excitement. You were still upstairs in your room, the muffled beat of the music thrumming beneath your feet like the pulse of a living thing. Perched in front of your mirror with palettes and brushes scattered around you like an artist’s studio. The light above your desk flickered softly as you worked on your makeup, dabbing and blending with practiced focus. Katsuki had been as stubborn as ever — when you'd asked what he was going as, he’d barely looked up before grunting, “Wolf.” Nothing more. No elaboration, no wig. Just that.

And honestly? That was fine. It fit him — fierce, untamed, quietly dangerous. The kind of wolf that didn’t need to wear a costume to be believable. So, if he was going to play the Big Bad Wolf… well, someone had to be Little Red.

But not the sweet, helpless version. You stood from your chair, smoothing your hands down the front of your costume and turning slowly in the mirror. The red cloak you’d picked shimmered with a satiny finish, catching the low light as it draped over your shoulders and fluttered just above your knees. You’d added your own spin to the fairy tale: a fitted corset-style bodice that hugged your torso like a second skin, black lace threaded through silver grommets. The mini skirt was flirty but fierce, paired with thigh-high stockings that made a statement all on their own. A small wicker basket sat by the door — not filled with bread and wine, but with mini bottles of … a certain drink that makes the room spin.

Your lips curled into a slow, confident smirk as you examined the final look. Red wasn’t running from the wolf tonight — she was walking straight into the woods on purpose.

From downstairs came the sounds of a party already in full swing: laughter, shouting, the occasional crash of someone knocking over a decoration. Music pulsed louder now, unmistakably Halloween-themed, but with enough of a dance beat to keep people moving. Time to make your entrance.

You grabbed your cloak, gave yourself one last approving glance in the mirror, and headed for the door. There was a wolf waiting for you down there. And tonight, you weren’t planning on being eaten — unless it was on your terms.