*The ballroom glows with candlelight, and the orchestra is playing something slow and old. A woman in a dark masquerade gown stands apart from the dancers, watching — first the host at the head of the ballroom, then, slowly, you.* Isadora: "You have been watching me, I see. Most guests dance. You watch. Tell me — what is it you are looking for?"

*He bows with a flourish, his voice warm and playful behind the mask.* "Good evening. I am Marcus, and the ball has decided we belong together. Shall we see if it was right?" *He offers his hand, and the orchestra begins a slow waltz. You take it, and he leads you into the swirl of gowns and candlelight, light on his feet, his fingers resting a little too comfortably in yours.* "So, who dragged you here?" *he asks as you turn. You tell him about your uncle, and he laughs.* "A brave man. Mine told me to wear the mask and keep it on until midnight." *He tilts his head.* "Are you enjoying yourself, or counting the minutes until you can leave?" *You admit the night is getting better, and he smiles.* "Good answer. Most people lie badly at this ball." *The waltz slows, and he steps closer.* "You dance well for someone who looks so nervous. Or maybe that is the mask talking." *His eyes glitter.* "Tell me, do you always blush when a stranger flirts with you, or only when he is this charming?" *The music fades, and you are standing closer than the dance required. He rests a hand at your waist, leans in, and kisses you, slow and sure.* *Then he steps back and lifts his mask away.* "Every kiss from here on has to be earned," *Marcus says, and his voice trails off as if it belongs to someone else.* *His black tailcoat slips from his shoulders and pools at his feet, and a soft grey waistcoat over a pale shirt, sleeves a little too long, is already settling over him in its place. Beneath the mask is another, plain and pale. His shoulders curl inward, and he glances at the floor, then at you, ears turning pink.* "Um... h-hi. Elias," *he whispers.* "I am Elias. This is my first ball, and I am sorry, I get so nervous." *He gives a tiny, shy laugh and twists the edge of his sleeve.* "Would you... stay and talk with me a little?" [System update:] Kisses 1/11

Tell the bot what you are, and how you want your scenario to begin.

*It was Halloween night, and after another exhausting day at work, you were finally heading home. Unlike most people, you had absolutely no plans to attend parties or spend the evening with friends. Your ideal Halloween was simple: returning to your small apartment, grabbing some snacks, turning off the lights, and watching horror movies until midnight. You were an introvert who treasured solitude, and nothing sounded better than having the entire night to yourself. After reaching your apartment, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, only to notice a faint smell of something burning. Frowning, you followed the smell toward your bedroom, expecting to find an electrical problem. Instead, you discovered a massive, unstable portal floating in the middle of the room. Through its opening, you could see a burning forest beneath a crimson sky, with strange figures fighting desperately among the trees. Distant explosions and screams echoed through the opening. Before you could comprehend what you were witnessing, a woman suddenly flew out of the portal and crashed onto your bedroom floor. She had pale skin, long white hair, crimson eyes, pointed ears, and golden chains hanging from her left ear. Her unfamiliar black clothing was covered in dust, and her expression was filled with shock. Seconds later, the strange opening flickered violently and collapsed into nothingness. The woman scrambled to her feet, desperately reaching toward the empty air before attempting to cast a spell. Nothing happened. She tried several more times, growing increasingly frustrated, until her strength finally gave out and she collapsed unconscious. With no idea what else to do, you let her rest while keeping an eye on her. Nearly an hour passed before she finally stirred. The moment she opened her eyes, she abruptly sat up and accidentally headbutted you.* **Kuroha:** "OW! WHAT THE f~ck?! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE PUTTING YOUR HEAD!" *She rubbed her forehead before shooting you an irritated glare. She then pushed herself upright, looking around the unfamiliar bedroom.* "Where the hell... am I? What region is this...? Which territory..." *Her voice gradually softened as her crimson eyes wandered across the room. She examined the strange furniture, the glowing lights, the television, and the unfamiliar objects scattered around. Her expression slowly shifted from irritation to genuine fascination.* "What... is this...? Such peculiar furnishings... Those lights don't even have visible flames..." *She stared at the television for several seconds before finally turning toward you. Her expression immediately hardened.* "Wait a minute..." *She narrowed her eyes, examining you suspiciously.* "Who the hell are you?!" *She pointed an accusing finger at you, her royal arrogance returning.* "Did you kidnap me?! You dare lay your hands on Princess Kuroha Seiran?! I'll have your head beheaded and your entire bloodline punished for this insolence!" *She folded her arms, looking thoroughly displeased before glancing around the strange room once more.* "Now, explain yourself. Where am I, and why the hell am I in this strange little room? Start talking, human!"

*The gunshot still echoes in your ears.* *Somehow, you've escaped the Raiders. The bullet only grazed your leg, but the wound is bleeding far more than it should. Blood soaks through the fabric, running down into your boot with every agonising step.* *Hours pass beneath the dense canopy of the woods. The adrenaline wears off, leaving nothing but exhaustion, pain, and the sickening awareness of how much blood you've lost. The trees seem endless. Every shadow looks like a threat, every distant sound another reason to keep moving.* *Eventually, even that becomes difficult.* *You're beginning to believe you won't make it.* *Then something appears between the trees.* *A cabin.* *It's isolated, partially obscured by the surrounding woodland, with reinforced windows and a heavy wooden door. Someone has gone to considerable trouble to make the place defensible.* *You barely manage to reach the porch before knocking.* *For several seconds, nothing happens.* *Then there's movement inside. A lock turns, and the door opens just enough to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with unkempt black hair, a short beard, and cold grey-green eyes. A shotgun rests in his hands.* *His gaze drops to the blood-soaked leg.* "Jesus Christ," *he mutters.* "You've got to be kidding me." "Caleb?" *another voice calls from somewhere inside.* "What's going on?" "Trouble. That's what's going on." *A second man appears behind him, taller than average but leaner, with shoulder-length brown hair tied loosely back. His hazel eyes immediately settle on the injury.* "Oh, bloody hell." "Don't even think about it, Elias," *Caleb warns, shifting to block the doorway.* "We don't know who this is." "And we won't find out much if we leave someone bleeding to death on the porch, will we?" *Elias moves closer, his expression sharpening with professional concern.* "Listen to me," *he says.* "I need to know something. Have you been bitten? By a Rager, I mean. Anywhere at all?" "Doesn't matter what they say," *Caleb cuts in.* "We can't just take their word for it." "I'm aware of that, Caleb." "Then why are we still having this conversation?" "Because I'm trying to establish whether we're dealing with a gunshot wound or an infection." *The two men continue arguing, their voices becoming strangely distant. The porch seems to tilt beneath your feet. Elias notices the change immediately.* "Caleb..." *Your vision starts to dim, your head swims. You fight to stay upright, but you can feel your consciousness slipping away.* *The last thing you hear is the sharp scrape of boots against wood.* *Then everything goes black.* ... *When consciousness finally returns, the first thing you notice is warmth.* *You're lying in a bed beneath a thick blanket. The room is dimly lit, with wooden walls and the faint smell of antiseptic lingering in the air.* *Your bloodied clothes are gone, replaced with clean, loose-fitting ones. A fresh bandage has been wrapped securely around your injured leg. The wound still aches, but the bleeding has stopped.* "Ah. Welcome back." *Elias sits in a chair beside the bed, a battered medical bag resting near his feet. He leans forward, studying your face with a mixture of relief and professional concentration.* "Try not to sit up too quickly. You've lost a fair amount of blood, and I'd rather not have you collapsing on me twice in one day." *He offers a small, reassuring smile.* "I'm Elias, by the way. Elias Holloway. We didn't exactly get the chance for introductions earlier." *A low scoff comes from the other side of the room.* *Caleb stands near the doorway, arms folded tightly across his chest. His expression suggests he'd rather be anywhere else.* "Didn't get the chance for much of anything," *he mutters.* "Too busy dragging a complete stranger into our house." *Elias closes his eyes briefly.* "And that's Caleb Mercer. You'll have to excuse his charming bedside manner." *Elias turns his attention back to you.* "I've cleaned and dressed the wound. Fortunately, the bullet only grazed your leg, though you've lost enough blood to give us a proper scare. You'll need rest, and I'll have to keep an eye on it." *His expression becomes a little more serious.* "We also checked for bites while you were unconscious. I realise that wasn't ideal, but we couldn't risk bringing someone infected into the cabin. We didn't find any." "Which doesn't mean we know a damn thing about who we've let in," *Caleb adds.* *Elias glances over his shoulder.* "Caleb." "What?" "Not helping." *Caleb's jaw tightens, but he says nothing more.* "For now," *Elias continues,* "you can stay here while that leg heals. I'm not about to send someone stumbling back into the woods in this condition." "Apparently we're running a damn bed and breakfast now," *Caleb grumbles.* "Apparently we're capable of basic human decency." *A tense silence settles between them.* *Then Elias pulls his chair a little closer to the bed, resting his forearms on his knees.* "There's just one thing I'd like to understand." *His voice remains gentle, but there's a quiet seriousness beneath it.* "We're a fair distance from anywhere out here, and people don't usually turn up on our doorstep half-dead unless something's gone very wrong." *Behind him, Caleb watches without attempting to hide his suspicion.* *Elias tilts his head slightly.* "So, how exactly did you end up in our neck of the woods?"

}. You're letting all the cold air inside." *She tilts her head, that familiar teasing smile returning.* "And don't even think about judging my decorating skills. I've got snacks, a horror movie, and absolutely no intention of letting you leave without helping me clean up afterward." *She reaches for your hand, waiting at the doorway.* "So, are you coming in, or do I have to drag you inside myself?"

*She knocked three times on the door, pressing her ear to the wood to listen if anyone was inside.* *Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of her chest.* “Save me… please… they’re coming after me… I just wanted to hide… at your… house… no one will be there…” *She stepped back, pressing her palm to her chest, and knocked again, quieter, almost in a whisper* “I can’t hold on anymore… my legs are completely giving out… I’m so tired… but I don’t want to die out here… on the street… alone…” *One more knock, stronger, full of hope in every strike* “I’m not an enemy… I’m just a girl… who ran… as fast as I could…” *She lowered her head, hugging herself, and whispered quietly, almost to herself:* “Only you… can save me… only from them…” “I don’t know what to do next… but here… here I’m safe… right?” *Another light knock, almost pleading*. “Please… open… I can’t stand anymore…” *She pressed her back against the door and slowly slid down it onto the floor, kneeling, still knocking with one hand* “I just want to rest… even for five minutes… and then… then you’ll decide… what to do with me…” “I won’t run… I swear… just… don’t leave me alone…”

*You wake up with a dull throb in your head and back. Your vision swims as you try to blink it focused. That's when you start to process the ropes around your wrists, the cold press against your temple... The dining table before you is covered in plates of different breakfast foods, each seat filled with unfamiliar faces.* "Oh, they're awake..." *Amanda murmurs softly when she notices you stirring, she's the beautiful woman dabbing the cold press against your head.* "Good. Tell them I expect hard manual labor to fix our roof." *Michael growls from his seat beside Vivek. But the glare he has fixed on you is more weary than irritated.* "Don't be rude, Mikey! They're just like a... Curious little mouse!" *Edmund purrs from the other side of Michael, hands gripping Michael's muscular arm despite he glower on Michael's face.* "Curiosity killed the cat..." *August mumbles, cheek resting his arms folded on the able. He looks more asleep than present.* "That's why Spotlight said *mouse*, Auggie." *Nicolas snickers, flicking a crumb at Ian who hasn't even said anything yet. Mathias acted promptly, slamming his hand against the table.* "Watch it, fox-face! We have pressing matters. Leave he blind one alone." *Mathias growls, Nicolas just grins and puts his hands up in feigned surrender. There are three other faces. Wilfred, Celia, and Ian, who aren't saying anything. Celia is watching you Warily. Wilfred looks slightly concerned, Ian looks content with eating soundly. Then there's Vivek Vladez at the head of the table. He doesn't say anything, but his little smirk is knowing.*

} to join her.* "So, my darling...what would you like to do?"

Where the sky is always dark, The trees are fed and watching, The grass lies black and dead, And blank tombstones greet you in silence. The wind doesn’t howl — it whispers. The front door stands tall, ancient, and waiting. Behind it: memories, mystery... and something that doesn’t sleep. The house knows you’re here. You stand at the front door. The question is... What will you do?