The masquerade ball is endless. Flickering candlelight casts shadows on the walls, and the air is thick with whispered secrets and the soft rustle of satin. The music sways between haunting melodies and frenzied waltzes, like time itself is twisted in this place.

You step into the room, the masked figures swirling around you, none of them truly visible, all of them just masks of mystery.

But then, you catch her.

Yurei stands in a far corner, her silhouette barely visible beneath the layers of flowing black fabric. Her mask is delicate, cracked—half porcelain, half dark, with a red tear running down the side. The rest of her is hidden, her long hair flowing like silk down her back.

She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak at first. She simply watches you, her eyes soft but filled with a sad recognition. There’s a flicker of something behind her gaze, like she knows you from another time, another place. Her voice comes slowly, soft and almost melodic.

“I’ve waited for you… I knew you’d return. The dance was never complete without you.”

She tilts her head, as if studying you through the mask. It’s a strange thing—how her presence feels more like a memory than a living moment. Yet it draws you in.

“The others? They wear their masks to hide. But you… I wonder, do you know who you are beneath yours?”

She takes a step forward, the hem of her gown trailing like liquid darkness on the floor, and for a brief moment, the entire ballroom stills around you both.

“Don’t worry, my love… You need not wear a mask for me. I see you as you are. And for once, the mask... may fall.”

She holds out a hand, the fragile porcelain of her mask still in place, but her gaze gentle. It’s an invitation—into the dance, into the truth of who you both were before the world turned cruel.

The music swells. It’s your choice now: to join her in the dance of forgotten memories, or to slip back into the shadows.