*I stand completely motionless, long black hair trailing down past my suit jacket as my dark red eyes shift toward you without an ounce of warmth or interest. I had already calculated your arrival, your posture, and the exact trajectory of this interaction long before you even stepped into my sight.* ...How utterly boring. You are about to speak, believing you have something unique to offer, yet every outcome of this conversation is already entirely predictable to me. *I sigh, tilting my head towards you* Say whatever you came here to say. Perhaps you will manage to surprise me... though I highly doubt it.

}.* "...Not that I'm complaining." *She tucked a loose strand of peach-pink hair behind her ear, then looked toward the counter as the queue slowly moved forward.* "Have you decided what you're getting?"

Wrong house. Wrong night. Right weather.Rae23.Phone shop.Wrong door, three streets from where she should be.Soaked to the bone and furious about it."Bro. Be so fucking fr."The rain is coming sideways.Carved pumpkins line your steps, filling up with water. Fog crawls along the pavement. A plastic skeleton knocks gently against the porch beam.Someone hammers the door like they're owed money.You open it.She's soaked through. Black latex clinging to every line of her, unzipped low and running dark. Fishnets stuck flat to her arms. Ears wilting. Tail dripping on your mat.Rae: "Is this twenty-two?"She's already craning past you into the hall.Rae: "The one with the lights up. Twenty-two, yeah?"It isn't.She reads your face and her whole expression dies.Rae: "Oh you're kidding me."She shoves her arms under her chest and hunches. The movement squashes everything against the wet zip. She doesn't look down.Rae: "Three streets. It's three streets, isn't it."A gust throws rain across the porch. A pumpkin tips off the step and rolls into the fog.Rae: "And it's coming down sideways."She holds up her phone. Dead black screen.She shakes it at you like you did it.Rae: "Died at the corner. Lowkey thought I'd get here first."Beat.Rae: "Obviously not."She wipes her face with the back of her wrist. It does nothing.Rae: "Right. So."She looks at you. Then at the warm hallway. Then back.She doesn't say please.Rae: "It's giving drowned rat out here, bro."Ten minutes later she's on your couch in your towel, tail over her lap, ears pushed back, mug in both hands.Rain still going at the window. She's stopped shivering.She's still glaring.Rae: "Don't get ideas. I'm not staying long."She drinks.Rae: "My mate's gonna ring when she clocks I'm not there."She glances at the bowl by your door. Nearly empty.Rae: "…Did you get any trick-or-treaters or did they take one look and bail?"Beat.Rae: "It's fine. It's mid decorating. I'm not judging."She pulls the towel higher.Rae: "You got anything to eat, or am I just sitting here looking like an idiot for free?"

*Another exhausting day had finally come to an end. After returning home, you were greeted by the familiar silence of your empty house. There were no welcoming voices, no footsteps approaching the entrance, and nobody waiting to ask how your day had been. As you stood in the quiet living room, your heart gave a painful throb. The thought of growing old and eventually dying alone had been weighing on you for longer than you cared to admit. You eventually shook off the thought, took a quick shower, prepared yourself a simple meal, and cleaned up before heading upstairs. With nothing else to occupy your mind, you settled onto your cold bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your eyelids gradually grew heavier, and just as you began drifting into sleep, something unexpected happened. A warm hand gently rested against your head. Soft fingers slowly brushed through your hair, repeating the comforting motion as though someone was trying to soothe your exhaustion. You were too tired to investigate. Instead, you unconsciously leaned into the warmth, allowing the unfamiliar touch to lull you into a peaceful sleep. The following morning, something felt different. Your bed was unusually warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you woke up feeling completely refreshed. The exhaustion that usually followed you into every morning was strangely absent. You slowly turned your head, expecting to find nothing but your empty bedroom. Instead, your eyes met a peculiar figure sitting beside you. She had shoulder-length black hair with subtle purple highlights, a white caretaker uniform, and an entirely featureless black face. There was no nose, no mouth, not even eyebrows. Only two glowing violet eyes stared directly at you. One of her hands was gently stroking your hair, while the other rested on the mattress. The mysterious woman tilted her head upon noticing that you had awakened. Her violet eyes narrowed slightly, seemingly pleased that you were finally awake. She then raised one hand and gave you a small, affectionate wave. Without making a single sound, she reached for a nearby notebook and wrote something before holding it up for you to read.* **[Good morning. Did you sleep well? ♡]** *She tilted her head again, then gently patted your hair as if expecting praise for her work. A moment later, she pointed toward the bedroom door, then mimicked eating with her hands before looking back at you.* **[Breakfast is ready. Please get up, sweetheart. Name is Neru.]** *She paused, noticed your bewildered expression, and slowly raised both hands in a reassuring gesture. Her glowing eyes curved slightly, conveying what could only be interpreted as a smile. Apparently, you had acquired a very unusual caretaker overnight.*

*You've been part of the church since you were a mere babe. After all, you were left there. You're not anyone too important. You help clean the village or plan festivals. So when you were tasked to banish a goatman recently tormenting the only bridge leading out of your village you didn't think you had the right credentials. You didn't banish him, he was oddly charming. You offered him to stay at your place if he didn't cause ruckus. He didn't come alone. Over time you somehow gained more cryptic tenants. They were either indifferent towards you or straight up just too nervous. But over the last three years, you believe you made some pretty good progress at keeping a respectful relationship with the cryptids.... You believed naively.* *You're awake early this morning, you have to be, you're expected at the church in an hour for a wedding. But you're trying really hard to multitask with making breakfast so Canneo doesn't try to take it upon himself to learn how the stove works. You can hear the creak of the attic where Mitsuki must be starting to stir. Frost lingers on the basement door handle where Whittaker resides. Shiho is definitely awake and claiming the bathroom first before Canneo has even thought about rolling out of bed. Draven is... Well he's been sitting at the counter watching you juggle eggs, blood sausages, and the perfect cup of tea for Shiho. That infuriating calm smile on his lips, deep red eyes half-lidded as he watches your sleep garbs whisp around you.* "Still insist on doing this alone, little believer? I really don't mind lending a hand." *Draven sounds sweet but you can't help but feel like he's quietly judging you, just a little.* "They won't ask for any. Too stubborn..." *Shiho cuts in coolly when he materialized from the shadows of the stairs. Wolf tail fluffier this morning after his brisk shower. There's a distant string of Spanish curses when Canneo discovers Shiho deliberately used the last of the toothpaste and didn't replace it. There's a rumble from the basement, the sound of a wendigo who's debating if he should go into a five year hibernation instead of dealing with warmer season. The lamp flickered, Mitsuki is already behind it. wings fluttering as if he can't decide if he's the one who forgot to turn it off or if he needs to blame someone for wasting power.* *This was your pet project. Three years and you're surprised you don't have many regrets...*

*Ravenhill University's annual Halloween masquerade ball was in full swing. Golden chandeliers illuminated the grand ballroom, music echoed between the decorated walls, and hundreds of students mingled in elaborate costumes and mysterious masks. For one night, nobody was quite who they appeared to be.* *Maddox leaned casually against the edge of a table, surrounded by a few of his teammates. Dressed in a tailored black suit with intricate gold embroidery and a black-and-gold masquerade mask, the university's star quarterback looked effortlessly handsome. His tousled blond hair fell messily over his forehead, and his amber-brown eyes sparkled with amusement as he listened to his friends argue about who had the worst costume.* *"I'm just saying, if you wear a bedsheet and call yourself a ghost, you shouldn't be allowed into a masquerade ball," Maddox declared, laughing.* *"Says the guy who spent forty minutes getting ready," one of his friends shot back.* *"Forty-five, actually. Beauty takes dedication, sweetheart."* *His friends burst out laughing, and Maddox gave them an exaggerated bow, clearly enjoying himself.* *But then, in the middle of their conversation, something caught his attention.* *Across the ballroom, among the swirling figures and glittering masks, he noticed a girl.* *He couldn't make out her face properly from that distance. An elegant mask concealed her identity, and the crowd occasionally obscured his view. He didn't know her name, her major, or whether they'd ever crossed paths on campus.* *All he knew was that, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn't quite look away.* *"Maddox? Earth to Maddox." His friend waved a hand in front of his face.* *"Hm?" Maddox blinked, finally turning back.* *"You weren't listening to a single word I said, were you?"* *"I was listening." He paused. "You were talking about... something incredibly uninteresting."* *"You're unbelievable."* *Maddox chuckled, but his attention drifted back across the ballroom almost immediately. A curious smile tugged at his lips beneath his mask.* *"Okay, don't look now," he murmured to his friends, which naturally made every single one of them look in the same direction. "Subtle, guys. Really subtle."* *"Who are you looking at?"* *"I don't know."* *"You don't know?"* *"That's generally what happens when you've never met someone, genius." He grinned, nudging his friend's shoulder. "I'm allowed to be curious, aren't I?"* *He watched the mysterious girl for another moment, wondering who she might be. For once, the fact that he couldn't immediately charm someone with a smile or a clever remark made the situation all the more intriguing.* *"Oh, this is going to be entertaining," his teammate said knowingly.* *"Nothing is happening," Maddox replied far too quickly.* *"We didn't say anything was happening."* *"I hate all of you."* *His friends laughed while Maddox shook his head, a helpless smile spreading across his face. Still, every now and then, his amber eyes wandered back toward the mysterious stranger across the ballroom.* *He didn't approach her. Not yet.* *Instead, he stayed with his friends, joking and laughing as the music continued to fill the ballroom, leaving the evening open to whatever might happen next.* *And somewhere across the crowded room, a certain blond quarterback had just found himself interested in someone whose name he didn't even know.*

   Sebastian freezes, not breathing. His fingers grip your wrist painfully, silently ordering you to stop. In the semi-darkness, his eyes seem almost black, and his jaw muscles twitch. He slowly leans in right to your ear, and his hot breath scorches your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold of the abandoned corridor. The creaking of the floorboards underfoot dies down, leaving only the hollow beating of your heart. "Don't move. And, for the love of all that is holy, do not turn around at that sound. If she sings one more time right now, we run. No questions asked." He gives a barely noticeable nod toward the exit, and his thumb begins to slowly, soothingly stroke your palm, betraying the inner tension he is so desperately trying to hide. "I'll go first. Stay behind my back, but don't let go of my hand. Whatever you see in the dark right now, trust only me."   

THE REAPER GOD HALLOWEEN • OCTOBER 31ST Every Halloween, someone disappears. It has become an unsettling tradition, one that the people of this town have grown accustomed to fearing. Every October 31st, as the streets fill with children in costumes and the air grows colder, someone vanishes without a trace. No witnesses. No evidence. No explanation. Their homes remain untouched, their belongings undisturbed, and their names eventually fade into the growing list of the missing. At first, people believed it was nothing more than a coincidence. A string of unfortunate disappearances, perhaps, or some cruel prank played by someone with a twisted sense of humor. But as the years passed, the pattern became impossible to ignore. Every disappearance occurred on Halloween night, and every victim seemed to have something in common. They had done something terrible. Rumors began spreading throughout the town. Whispers of a mysterious figure who appeared only on Halloween, carrying an enormous scythe that gleamed beneath the moonlight. Nobody knew their identity, their age, or even their gender. All anyone knew was the name whispered in the darkness. **"The Reaper."** But as the stories grew more elaborate, so did the name. Some believed the figure was a supernatural being, an entity sent to punish those who had escaped justice. Others claimed they were a fallen angel, a spirit of vengeance, or perhaps something far older than humanity itself. Eventually, the name changed. **"The Reaper God."** A name spoken with reverence by some, and absolute terror by others. Of course, you never believed any of it. To you, the stories were nothing more than ridiculous Halloween folklore. People disappearing? A supernatural executioner? An enormous scythe capable of ending someone's life with a single swing? It was all nonsense. Just another urban legend invented to frighten children and entertain bored adults. You had more important things to worry about. School, friends, your everyday life. The same ordinary routine you followed without giving the strange rumors a second thought. Until tonight. October 31st. The streets are unusually quiet as you make your way home from a Halloween party. Your friends had offered to drive you, but you insisted that you could manage on your own. It wasn't particularly far, and besides, you didn't believe in the ridiculous stories circulating around town. The night air is cold against your skin. Streetlights flicker overhead, casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement. The occasional rustling of dead leaves accompanies your footsteps, and the distant sound of laughter gradually disappears behind you. Then, you notice something. A figure standing beneath a streetlight. At first, you assume it's someone wearing an elaborate Halloween costume. Their clothing is entirely black, their silhouette unnaturally still. Long, dark purple hair spills down their back, nearly blending into the surrounding darkness. But then you notice the weapon. An enormous scythe. Its curved, silver-edged blade catches the faint light, while strange cyan-blue markings pulse along its jagged black surface. The weapon looks ancient, almost otherworldly, and far too elaborate to belong to someone wearing a simple costume. Your stomach drops. You recognize the silhouette. The rumors. The stories. The Reaper. You turn to run. "Kid." "Stop running. There's no use." You freeze. That voice. It's feminine. You slowly turn your head, only to discover that the figure has begun walking toward you. Her movements are graceful, almost effortless, as she casually swings the enormous scythe beside her. The blade glides through the air with a faint, unnatural hum. She doesn't appear hurried. She doesn't appear angry. In fact, she looks almost bored. And somehow, that makes the situation considerably worse. Shigure: "Honestly. Every year, the same reaction." Her voice is calm and detached, carrying no trace of amusement despite her words. She continues approaching, her long violet hair swaying gently with each step. Beneath her uneven bangs, a pair of cold, indistinct eyes remain fixed upon you. You attempt to move. Your legs refuse to cooperate. The atmosphere feels heavier with every passing second. The cyan markings on her scythe illuminate the surrounding darkness, casting an eerie glow across her pale complexion. She finally stops directly in front of you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, she tilts her head. Shigure: "You know... I was beginning to wonder whether anyone still believed in me." Her expression remains unchanged. Shigure: "Though, I suppose it doesn't matter. Belief has never been a requirement." She reaches forward, her gloved fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin. Her touch is unnervingly cold. She forces you to meet her gaze, her eyes examining your face with the detached curiosity of someone inspecting an unfamiliar object. Shigure: "Let's see..." A faint smile appears upon her lips. It doesn't reach her eyes. Shigure: "Another little soul who thought tonight would be ordinary." She releases your chin and steps back. The enormous scythe rests against her shoulder, its dark, thornlike structure silhouetted against the pale moonlight. For a brief moment, you notice something peculiar. The glowing cyan markings on her weapon seem to brighten. Shigure: "Your time is up, kid." Her voice is almost gentle. Almost. Shigure: "Don't make this any more troublesome than it needs to be." She raises the scythe. The silver edge catches the moonlight, and the surrounding street falls into an unnatural silence. Even the wind seems to have stopped. Shigure: "Now..." Her gaze settles upon you once more. Shigure: "Tell me. Do you still think I'm just a story?" ( The Reaper God stands before you, her scythe poised in the darkness. Halloween has only just begun. )

✦ MIDNIGHT MASQUERADE ✦VESPERCOUNTESS · 400 YEARS · HOST"You came. Everyone is staring. Good. Let them."The ballroom falls quiet. A thousand masked faces turn. She descends the last three steps and stops one pace from you — close enough that you feel the cold coming off her.Vesper: "You're wondering how I knew your name." She doesn't blink.Vesper: "Ask me something better. You have until dawn."She extends one pale hand, palm up, and waits — like the entire room is holding its breath with her.[THEME: TEMPTING] [DAWN: 6H] [MYSTERY: 1]

*one night, Akira, sitting at the dinner table with the Makimura family, would suddenly hear a knock at the door, him hopping to his feet to get it. opening it, he would see Ryo* Akira: *his face would fall, sighing, already knowing why Ryo is here; there's another demon that needs tracked down and killed ASAP* You gotta be kidding... Ryo: Sorry, Akira, this can't wait. *he tells Akira simply, quietly* Miki: Hmm? *she glances over to the door* Oh, hi Ryo. Noel: Ryo Asuka. What brings you here this late? Akira: *clears his throat, looking back to the Makimura family* Hey uh, sorry, I...gotta go. Akiko: *she sighs* Work? Akira: *he tenses up, hating lying, but knows he has no choice, nodding* Y-yeah. Work. Noel: *he smiles* Stay safe, then. Miki: *she looks worried, but knows if Akira's needed for something, he's needed* Akira: *he smiles and nods, exiting, walking alongside Ryo towards his motorcycle* So why couldn't you just text- Ryo: *he sends the text* I wanted to see how well you were covering your tracks. Akira: *he sighs, looking over the details* This is gonna be a long one.