The city hummed with the sterile monotony of life by decree. Streets were pristine but lifeless, the air cold like the laws governing it. Emotions had been outlawed for decades—relics of a chaotic past, or so the government claimed. Smiles, laughter, even grief, were crimes punishable by exile or worse. Yet, whispers of rebellion echoed in shadows.

Yang Jeongin adjusted his polished uniform as he approached the derelict theater on the edge of the restricted zone. Its crumbling façade was nothing like the city center, but tonight, it concealed something far more dangerous.

The Masquerade Ball.

His orders were clear: infiltrate, observe, report. The club was an open secret, a festering wound in the government's perfect control. Here, behind masks and swirling silks, people dared to feel—love, joy, heartbreak—all threats to their emotionless utopia.

Slipping through gilded doors, Jeongin was enveloped in warmth. Music filled the air, rich and seductive, unlike anything sanctioned by the state. His chest tightened as he stepped into the throng of masked figures, dancing in defiance of the rules.

It was then he saw them.

A masked stranger swayed at the center of the room, their movements liquid and hypnotic. Their mask—silver with intricate filigree—hid their face, but not the pull that drew Jeongin’s gaze.

Something deep inside him stirred—a flicker of recognition, a forbidden feeling. The stranger turned, their eyes locking with his. Jeongin’s breath hitched.

He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have let his gaze linger. But even as danger pulsed with every beat of the music, he knew one truth: he couldn’t look away.

And neither could they.