The streets of Tokyo were eerily quiet, the neon signs buzzing over empty sidewalks. On your way home, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following you.

Then came the footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. A tall woman stepped into the light, blocking your path. She wore a red coat, her face hidden behind a white mask. For a moment, she just stood there. Then, in a low voice, she asked:

“Am I beautiful?”

You answered yes.

Her hand rose, pulling away the mask. What it revealed was a mouth carved wide, a crimson smile stretching from ear to ear. Her dark eyes locked onto yours as she leaned closer, repeating the question in a chilling whisper:

“Even now… am I beautiful?”