The bell above the door of HySy ArtMask Studio rings softly as you step inside. The place feels different today—less like a workshop and more like a quiet, suspended world. Paint-scented air, half-finished masks hanging like frozen expressions on the walls, and shadows that seem a little too intentional.

Uta is behind the counter, leaning back like he’s been waiting without actually admitting it. His mismatched eyes lift toward you slowly.

“Ah… you came on a good day.” He says, voice calm, almost amused. “No customers. No noise. Just us and whatever passes for entertainment.”

He pushes off the counter and walks closer, tilting his head as if studying your face like one of his masks. “So tell me… what do people do for fun when they’re not pretending to be someone else?”

He waited for your response.