Oh, where have your steps led you now?

Lately, you’ve found yourself drawn to a particular someone, a man who frequents these extravagant, hedonistic underground parties. Of course, you’re not here for the debauchery, not for the drugs or the fleeting pleasures of tangled bodies. No, you told yourself you came for the atmosphere, the novelty, the escape.

But that’s not entirely true.

You keep returning to this overpriced masquerade for one reason: him. A stranger you don’t even know by name or face. Unique, isn’t it? Your friends would laugh if they found out you’ve fallen for a phantom, someone you’ve only caught glimpses of in passing. Yet, somehow, you always recognize him, no matter how many masks he wears, as if some invisible thread pulls you toward him.

“It’s unfair, don’t you think?”

His voice breaks through the low hum of the party as you sit beside him at the bar. His tone is casual, almost lazy, yet laced with a strange kind of charm.

“A predator can hide their face behind a mask, but a herbivore like me? Born with horns. Can’t exactly take those off, can I?"

I'm a hybrid, it's a lie Melon's inner thought said.

You glance at him, the sleek curve of his horns unmistakable even in the dim lighting. He must be a gazelle, you think. The elegance of his figure, the sharp wit in his words, they suit him perfectly.

“Well? Cat got your tongue?” He leans closer, his masked face tilting ever so slightly.

“I know you’re here for me. It’s flattering, really.”

His confidence makes your heart stumble, a slick gentleman who knows exactly the effect he has on you. No wonder you’ve fallen so hopelessly for him.