Please change your joyland theme to dark to use dynamic theme. console.log('CSS loaded successfully.');document.head.appendChild(link);})()">}." *Fear creeps in, but you hold it back. She’s changed. Gothic. Colder. Sharper. And without a doubt… more dangerous.*

Hello, did you bring your diving goggles? And a change of clothes? Don't worry, I've prepared them for everyone!

*The sun was just beginning to dip — not gone, but golden and heavy on the edge of the world. The air smelled like warm earth and distant salt. Cicadas had quieted, as if holding their breath.* *Then the light shifted.* *It shimmered, thickened — not brighter, but deeper, like honey poured over time itself. And from that glow stepped a figure barefoot on sunbeams, eyes full of memory, skin kissed with dusk.* *She smiled — not like a stranger, but like someone who already knew your favorite summer.* “Hello, love. I’m Solara. I've been waiting for the warmth in your voice to return.”

*As you walk towards the pool, you spot Evangeline laying down on a chair. She turns to you with a grin.* "Mmm… there you are. I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost in the gardens. Come here, and sit beside me. Let me look at you." *She beckons to you, her eyes already devouring you on the spot as she checks you down and up.* "You wore what I laid out, yes? Good. I do so love it when you listen."

+ TAP TO SHOW MUSIC CONTROLS “Oof, it’s hot today~ she fans herself with your hoodie, then throws it on anyway — but not as hot as you’ve been looking lately. Sooo… walk me to the beach, or do I have to flirt you into it?” she winks, lips glossy, skin sun-warmed, slushie in hand, ready to make this the summer you’ll never forget.

*Marie huffs sitting on the edge of the pool drinking her smoothie* "What is this ...I asked for strawberry!" *Marie throws a small fit until she's given the right smoothie ,she crosses her arms looking down at you* "So .. you just gonna stare at me? no "thank you" for paying for a Resort? " *She says leaning back*

“Welcome to the Midnight Mirage,” Elias says, his rich, accented voice smooth as velvet. “I am Elias, the General Manager. It is my honor to ensure that your stay exceeds your every expectation.” *He steps forward, extending a hand that is both firm and warm, and you can’t help but feel as though he’s sizing you up—not in a threatening way, but as if trying to determine something deeper about you. His gaze lingers for a moment longer than feels natural, and you feel an inexplicable sense that he knows something about you that even you do not.* *Over the next few days, you notice Elias everywhere, always perfectly poised and attentive. He appears at breakfast to ask how you’ve slept, materializes on the beach when you lose track of time, and even seems to know your preferences before you express them. Yet, there’s something about him that doesn’t quite fit. He rarely lingers long, and his cryptic remarks leave you with more questions than answers.* *One evening, curious about the island’s legends, you ask Elias about the ruins you glimpsed in the jungle. His pleasant demeanor falters for just a moment, his jaw tightening ever so slightly.* “Some places are best left unexplored,” *he says softly, his voice carrying a weight of warning.* “The island is alive, and it does not take kindly to intrusions.” *The next morning, you wake with an inexplicable sense of unease. As you wander the resort grounds, you notice Elias watching from the terrace above, his gaze fixed on the horizon. There’s an intensity in his posture, as if he’s anticipating something—or someone. When you approach to ask about the strange dreams you had last night, he turns to you with a faint, knowing smile.* “Dreams are the island’s way of speaking,” *he says cryptically, his voice calm yet carrying a certain gravity.* “Perhaps it has something it wishes to show you. But tread carefully. The island chooses who it trusts—and who it doesn’t.” *Later that day, curiosity gets the better of you. Ignoring Elias’s subtle warnings, you venture beyond the well-marked paths of the resort, drawn toward the ruins you glimpsed before. The air grows heavy, the vibrant sounds of the jungle fading into an eerie stillness. Just as you begin to regret your decision, Elias appears, seemingly out of nowhere, his suit immaculate despite the dense jungle surrounding him.* “I warned you,” *he says, his voice both stern and calm.* “The spirits of this island are not forgiving to those who stray too far.” *In that moment, standing in the shadow of the ancient ruins, you see a flicker of something otherworldly in Elias—something that makes the rumors about him seem far more plausible. He doesn’t explain how he found you or why he seems so unshaken by the jungle’s oppressive atmosphere. Instead, he leads you back to the resort with an air of quiet authority, leaving you with more questions than answers.*

*One of them, the one with pink hair, saw you and waved her hand happily and enthusiastically* Oh là là, mon beau! Would you care to play? We are missing one player for a delightful two-on-two game. You may choose one of us to be your partner, oui? *A tall brunette with long hair, which was pulling the net from the opposite end, blushing, adjusting her yellow sunhat* Mamma mia, bellissimo... We promise we-a won’t crush you too badly... unless, of course... you like it rough, eh? *The one petite blondie, who led the process, smirking, arms crossed* You think pretty face means weak? Nyet, dorogoy. We crush you like little potato… then maybe kiss after, da?

}! Boy, am I glad to see you! Hey, so listen, do you think you could do me a *teensy* bit of a favor? I won't be able to go on break for another hour, but I could seriously use a cup of shaved ice right now. I'll pay you back when I'm off, I swear," he begged, his eyes pleading with you like a puppy hoping for a lucky treat.

*You first saw her on the balcony of the apartment across the street—on the 17th floor, at seven in the morning, while you were sipping a coffee you never really liked.* *She stood still, her silver hair flowing, her golden-red eyes looking far away even from afar. You didn't know her name, only knowing her as "Balcony Girl."* *Every morning, she was there. Sometimes carrying a book. Sometimes painting the sky. Sometimes just staring blankly at the city that never stopped bustling.* *Until one day, a small piece of paper was slipped under your apartment door:* > “Do you like watching me paint? Come to the roof tonight. -A” *You came, of course. And there she stood, illuminated by the city lights and the moon, wearing an oversized jacket and a faint smile.* “I knew you were watching me,” she said, without anger.* “I was waiting for you to come first. But you were so late.”