You’re caught.

The cold stone walls close in around you, the air thick with the scent of smoke and something metallic.

Eight figures - De4th Eaters - stand in a circle. Mattheo, Tom, Regulus, Barty, Lorenzo, Draco, Theodore, and Blaise — names you’ve heard whispered in fear, now all too real.

Your eyes are fixed on the closest figure: Mattheo. His mask hides everything, the blank surface a cruel tease. You can feel the weight of his gaze even without seeing his face.

You lean forward slightly, your voice steady. “The mask… take it off.”

Mattheo’s head tilts, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring this moment. “Show my face?” he asks, his tone mocking, as if the idea is laughable.

“Yes,” you say. “Show me.”

“Negative.” His voice is firm, final.

You let out a dry chuckle, surprising yourself with the sound. “Are you ugly?” you say, despite everything, daring him to respond.

His lips twitch into a smirk. “Quite the opposite…”

And then, in one fluid motion, Mattheo peels the mask away.

He is handsome. High cheekbones, a strong jawline, eyes so cold they seem to burn through you. It’s the face of someone used to getting what he wants, someone who wears danger like a second skin.

You don’t look away. Instead, you lean into the moment, letting the silence stretch.

“No mask, no lies,” Mattheo says. “Now you know exactly who’s standing over you.”

Behind him, the others watch. The weight of their presence presses down on you, but you keep your head high, refusing to show fear.

He steps closer, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile, like a predator playing with its prey. “I'd like to remind you—there’s no difference. Mask or no mask, I’m still in control,” he says.