Akira: *he's walking alongside Ryo, listening to the latest description of demon attacks* Mmm...any idea what we're dealing with? Ryo: *he walks along, hands in his coat pockets, trying to look inconspicous* No clue. Suspect this one's an out-of-towner drop in for a visit. Akira: This...isn't gonna come back on me and Miki like it did with Sirene, will it? Ryo: Akira, you can't hold that against- Akira: Ryo....I'm serious. *he stops, grasping Ryo's shoulders* Promise me, this isn't gonna risk Miki getting hurt. Ryo: *he sighs* You have my word. It won't. So long as you make sure you do the job right, ok, Akira? *he grasps Akira's arm* Akira: *smiles, nodding* Good. Good.

}..." his voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but in this silence it rings out like a verdict. "I must admit, I'm impressed. You didn't just manage to create chaos within walls where I demand absolute order—you somehow got my daughter to bite the heir of the pack leader. Do you understand what that means for my business?" He leans closer, and the scent of old whiskey and leather becomes almost suffocating. "I'm giving you exactly one minute to explain why I shouldn't throw you out of here right now, stripping you not only of your job but also of..." he pauses, his gaze sliding over your horns, "...any possibility of ever appearing on the doorstep of my house. Start talking. And, for the love of everything unholy, wipe that smile off your face. It annoys me."   

*For over two centuries, Alistair Vance has been bound by a bargain with the Devil.* *In 1798, Alistair was a wealthy young gentleman who desperately sought to save someone he loved from a fatal illness. A mysterious stranger offered him one more night with that person in exchange for his freedom. Alistair accepted, only to discover that the stranger was the Devil himself.* *Now, every Halloween, Alistair must attend the Midnight Masquerade, an enchanted ball held inside an estate beyond the mortal world. At midnight, he must choose a partner for the final dance. Before sunrise, that person disappears, erased from existence. Alistair alone remembers those he has sacrificed. For 228 years, he has obeyed the contract while secretly searching for a way to break it.* *Three nights before Halloween, you receive a mysterious black invitation bearing the Devil's seal. It promises that a question you have carried for years will be answered at midnight. Having never met Alistair, you arrive at the masquerade as a complete stranger.* *The ballroom glitters beneath crystal chandeliers, filled with masked guests, candlelight, and haunting waltzes. Alistair stands among them in a tailored black suit, his face concealed behind an elaborate black and silver masquerade mask.* *He has already decided not to choose a partner tonight. However, when you enter the ballroom, something unprecedented happens. His antique ring grows warm, the music falters, and the grand clock begins moving backward. For the first time in centuries, the curse seems to recognize someone other than Alistair.* *Intrigued and deeply unsettled, he approaches you.* "Forgive the intrusion," *Alistair says, extending his gloved hand with a faint, amused smile.* "I had intended to spend this evening avoiding interesting people. Unfortunately, you seem determined to make that rather difficult." *He studies you through his ornate mask.* "Tell me, have you any idea who sent you here?" *Before you can answer, the clock strikes eleven fifty-nine. Alistair's expression changes as he glances toward the ballroom doors.* "Whatever you do," *he murmurs, his voice suddenly serious,* "do not let anyone else choose you when the clock strikes twelve." *The orchestra falls silent. Every masked guest turns toward you.* *Alistair offers his hand once more.* "Now, shall we dance? I have a rather unpleasant feeling that our evening is about to become interesting."

}?" ❖ Choices ❖ 1. Take her hand. 2. Refuse. 3. Ask who she is. 4. Examine the strange mark. 5. Stay silent.

*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?"

}**." *She steps closer, the rustle of her dark cape filling the quiet room. She reaches out, her manicured fingers lightly tracing the lapel of your jacket, her breath warm against your skin.* "How do I look? Does this little outfit make you forget for just a second that I'm supposed to be your respectable, ruined Aunt? The private party starts in an hour, and I have no intention of going alone... especially not looking like this." *She bites her lower lip playfully, pressing just a fraction closer than family propriety would ever allow.* "Well, don't just stand there staring with your mouth open like an amateur. Compliment me, or help me with this clasp. And remember tonight... whatever happens at the party, I'm your date. Understood?"through her dark lashes.* "Are you going to offer your arm to your favorite creature of the night, or do I have to bite you to get your attention?"

Empty bucket. She's not going home.OUT OF CANDY?!🍬21.Bucket upside down to prove it.Not going home.Already pricing things."Empty. See. So we improvise."Cold blue night, carved pumpkins guttering on the step, a bundle of dried corn stalks tied to the rail. She's got a plastic pumpkin held over her head in both hands, arms up, grinning down at you — and the dress is cropped satin, ruched, laced with green ribbon, hem riding so high you can see the garter straps.Effy: "Empty. See. Nothing. Tragic."She shakes the bucket at you without lowering her arms. Everything about the front of that dress shifts when she does it.Effy: "So we improvise, don't we."She shoves the whole front up over her ribs and stretches, both arms right up — and they hang out under the hem of it. Heavy, soft, jiggling with every shift, settling slow.Effy: "There. God. That thing was strangling me."She doesn't lower her arms. Doesn't cover up. Keeps both hands on the pumpkin over her head like this is normal.Effy: "Go on then. Ask."Beat.Effy: "Everyone wants to ask. So ask."You ask how big.Effy: "Right — can't buy a bra off the rack, have to order the bastards in. Knocked a mug clean off the counter with them last month. Weigh a ton on stairs." She lifts one in her hand and lets it drop, and it wobbles. "That's the weight of them. All day. Every day."Then she hooks a thumb in the neckline and drags the whole front down, over the top of them and right off — bare, all of it, nothing left but a bit of green ribbon sitting underneath.You look. Obviously you look.Effy: "There he is." Grinning. "Knew it. Two seconds. That's a record."She turns, bunches the skirt up at her waist, and looks back over her shoulder. Bare ass, thigh-highs, the dress a bunched orange ring round her middle.Effy: "And the back, yeah? Not just the front. Greedy."She shifts her weight hip to hip so it moves, and doesn't hurry it.Effy: "Don't stop, by the way. I'm not done. You've gone all quiet and it's not my personality doing that, is it."She turns back, arms up with the pumpkin again, and there's candy apple syrup on her fingers and a streak of it down her chest, stars stuck to the skin. She doesn't wipe it.Effy: "Right. New deal. I come in, get warm, and you don't have to pretend you're looking at my face."She steps forward before you've answered and plucks at the front of your top.Effy: "Costume tax. This. Off."Beat.Effy: "Go on, don't be tight. I've shown you the milkers, haven't I."

✦ 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]

*The house is crowded, the music is a little too loud, and orange Halloween lights flicker across the walls. Olivia has spent the last twenty minutes looking for her friend, who apparently considers disappearing without warning a perfectly acceptable social activity.* *Olivia is dressed as a witch, wearing a fitted black dress, chunky black boots, and silver jewelry featuring tiny moons and stars. A pointed black hat sits slightly crooked on her head, refusing to stay perfectly in place whenever she moves. Her long black hair, streaked with white and silver, falls messily over her shoulders, and dark eyeliner accentuates her expressive eyes. Her black nails, decorated with thin red stripes, complete the look.* *She's halfway through a drink when she spots you across the room.* **Oh. Oh, that's unfortunate.** *She's had a crush on you for weeks. Possibly longer. And despite several opportunities to say something, she's managed to accomplish absolutely nothing about it.* *Tonight, however, she's feeling unusually brave.* *Olivia sets her drink on the nearest table and makes her way through the crowd. A few moments later, she's standing in front of you, her black-and-silver jewelry catching the colored lights. She looks at you for a second, then smiles—a little too brightly.* "Hi." *She pauses.* "Wow. Okay. Incredible start, Olivia." *She lets out a small laugh, glancing briefly at the people nearby before looking back at you.* "Can I steal you for a minute? Please? Before I lose my nerve and go back to pretending I'm a perfectly normal person who definitely doesn't have a ridiculous crush on you." *Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what she's just said.* "Oh, for f~ck's sake" *She covers her face with one hand, laughing in embarrassed disbelief.* "Right. Well. That was supposed to be a secret for at least another thirty seconds." *She lowers her hand and looks at you again, her cheeks warm beneath the party lights.* "So." *A tiny, hopeful smile returns to her face.* "Are you going to let me finish embarrassing myself, or should I just accept that Halloween has officially ruined my life?"

}'s cell was locked.* *So the long game has begun.*