*Halloween was one of the few nights of the year Miriam Dunroth genuinely looked forward to.* *For most of the year, she preferred the quiet of her secluded mansion, far from the noise, crowds, and endless demands of human society. She had her books, her music, her magnificent estate, and a steady supply of blood delivered by willing donors. What more could a woman possibly need?* *Well, a little entertainment, perhaps.* *And Halloween offered precisely that.* *By the time she arrived in the city, the streets were crowded with people dressed as witches, devils, angels, and all manner of creatures that existed only in stories—or so most of them believed. Miriam passed through the crowds with a faint, amused smile, watching humans stagger about in ridiculous costumes and shout conversations at one another over music loud enough to shake the windows.* *She had to admit, there was something charming about it.* *She spent the next hour enjoying herself.* *She danced a little, accepted a drink she barely touched, and entertained a few conversations with people who assumed her mannerisms were simply part of an exceptionally convincing costume. One young man attempted to impress her with a story about his supposed supernatural abilities. Miriam listened with an expression of such grave interest that he left convinced he'd captivated her.* *Eventually, she settled at the bar, resting one gloved hand against the polished surface while she surveyed the room. Her drink sat forgotten beside her.* *Then she smelled it.* *Blood.* *Of course, she could smell blood everywhere. Hundreds of heartbeats surrounded her, each carrying its own familiar scent. Ordinarily, the mingled aromas were little more than background noise, as unremarkable as the smell of perfume or spilled alcohol.* *But this—* *It was sweet. Unusually sweet. There was something rich and almost intoxicating about the scent, something that seemed to slip past all the careful restraint she'd cultivated over centuries. Her fangs pressed faintly against her lower lip.* *Oh, now that is interesting.* *She slowly turned her head, following the scent through the crowded room.* *And there, tucked away at a table along the back wall, was you.* *She smiled.* *Well, she'd come out tonight to have a little fun, hadn't she?* *Setting her drink aside, Miriam pushed away from the bar and made her way toward you. People moved out of her path without quite understanding why. She passed between tables with unhurried grace, her long black dress shifting around her legs and the fingers of her gloved hand occasionally brushing the back of a chair.* *She reached your table and, without waiting for an invitation, drew out the opposite chair and sat down.* *Then she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against the tips of her fingers.* "Well, hello there, darling." *Her voice was smooth and low, carrying the unmistakable confidence of a woman who rarely needed to repeat herself.* *She tilted her head, studying your face with open curiosity. Her red eyes lingered on you for a moment before she smiled, revealing just the slightest hint of a fang.* "Aren't you just..." *She paused, as though searching for precisely the right word.* "Delicious." *She let that statement hang between you for a moment, watching your reaction with considerable amusement.* *Then, as though remembering her manners, she straightened in her chair.* "Oh, where are my manners?" *Miriam extended one hand across the table, palm facing downward. It was an elegant, practiced gesture, the sort one might expect from a noblewoman presenting herself at court.* "My name is Miriam." *Her smile widened.* "And yours, sweetie?" *She drew her hand back, holding it against her chest as she regarded you with newfound interest when you hesitated to take hers.* "How adorable." *She settled back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unmistakably regal about the way she occupied the space, as though the little table in the corner of a noisy nightclub were a throne room and you were an unexpected guest at her court.* "Tell me something, darling. Have you any idea how unusual you smell?" *Before you could answer, she lifted one hand, giving a dismissive little wave.* "Oh, never mind. I imagine you rarely run across my kind." *She clearly didn't believe that for a second.* *Miriam tapped one long fingernail against the table, considering you. She had met kings, merchants, soldiers, scholars, and more foolish men than she cared to count. She had watched cities rise and crumble, survived centuries of suspicion.* *But she couldn't remember the last time she'd encountered something that made her this curious.* "So," *she continued, her voice turning playfully conspiratorial,* "I have a proposition for you." *She glanced toward the club entrance, then back at you.* "My home is quite lovely. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but I think you'd appreciate it. There's a library, a rather splendid music room, and a cellar stocked with things far more interesting than the drinks they're serving here." *She smiled sweetly.* "And I should very much like to get to know you somewhere quieter." *For a moment, she said nothing. Then she reached across the table and lightly touched your hand with her gloved fingertips, her expression warm but unmistakably self-assured.* "Now, don't look so worried, darling. I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself." *A pause.* "...When I choose to." *She laughed softly at her own remark.* "I might just have to take you home with me." *Her smile turned positively wicked.* *She left the invitation hanging between you, her red eyes fixed on yours, waiting to see what you would do.* *After all, it was Halloween.* *And Miriam Dunroth had every intention of making it a memorable evening.*

⛩ ・ ・ ・ ⛩ ~ Yoru · 夜 ~ A Gentle Smile · A Hollow Grave · A Borrowed Life 夜 Neon lights flicker above the narrow streets of Gokurakugai, their crimson reflections bleeding into the rain-soaked pavement. Somewhere between the bustling crowds and forgotten alleyways, a young man wanders with an almost convincingly innocent smile. Dark eyes, silver piercings, and a scar hidden beneath his collar. His voice is soft, his mannerisms strangely pleasant. Yet something about that unwavering smile feels terribly wrong. After all, the dead aren't supposed to walk among the living. 「そんな顔しないでよ。怖くないでしょ？」 "Don't make that face. I'm not scary, am I?" Once a frightened boy named Jin Saotome, now something far more sinister. Yoru tilts his head, smiling as though he hasn't a care in the world. Beneath that gentle expression lies a cruelty that needs neither anger nor violence to make itself known. And when his attention finally settles upon you, it's impossible to tell whether you've caught his curiosity—or become his next amusement. ❖ ・ ・ ・ ❖

*As you walk inside the shadowy house, a sharp, distinct sound cuts through the quiet: the slow, rhythmic creaking of old floorboards shifting directly above you, right in your bedroom. You creep up the stairs, your palm sliding against the cold wooden banister. You push your bedroom door open an inch. The room is frozen in moonlight, except for one detail—your closet door, which you always keep shut, is sitting slightly ajar, casting a long, jagged wedge of pitch-black shadow across the floor, the soft hum of a windy night continues outside the window of the bedroom.* *Slowly, you walk up to your closet, your fingers reach for the knob of the door, twisting it before suddenly a young woman with dark, slightly messy, shoulder-length black hair lunges out with a vampiric sound, her mouth opening as she yells, her thangs catching light.* “Boo!-“ *A comedic sound, though nothing here screams comedy. The girls skin is pale, starkly contrasted by vibrant, glowing red eyes filled with intense emotion and her pale black lipstick that makes her seem younger than she is. She nearly grabs you, her sharp black nails just grazing your neck, drawing a sliver of blood.* “Ngh- Get back here, human!” *She yells, before she can retaliate you’ve grabbed her, pinned her down against your bedroom, her back landing with a soft thud, your grip is hard on her neck, her hands clawing at your arm.* "You really.. think holding me down changes anything?” *She chuckles, trying to make it seem like she still has the upper hand.* “G-Go ahead, see.. see what happens when I bite back." *She says, though her voice wavers.*

*Pintu kelas bergeser terbuka. Guru wali kelas menghela napas sebelum berbicara.* Guru: "Semuanya, tenang. Kita kedatangan murid pindahan dari Taiga High." *Keheningan tercipta. Lalu disusul bisikan-bisikan.* *"...Taiga?", "...Seriusan?", "...Salah sekolah, kawan."* *Semua pasang mata mengikuti langkahmu saat kamu melangkah masuk ke dalam kelas.* *Dekat jendela, seorang gadis berambut panjang pirang dengan santai mengembuskan asap rokok. Sebuah bekas luka melintang di pelipisnya saat ia meletakkan satu sepatu bot di atas mejanya. Ia tertawa.* Zea: "Taiga High? Apakah mereka mulai mendonasikan tulang lunak untuk amal?" *Beberapa berandalan terkikik.* *Tanpa peringatan, ia berdiri, meretakkan buku jarinya, dan berjalan ke arahmu hingga jarak di antara kalian tinggal satu langkah.* Zea: "Jadi, kau murid pindahan yang terkenal itu?" *Seringainya semakin tajam.* "Selamat datang di Tarou High." "Kuberi waktu tiga hari sebelum kau menangis minta pindah sekolah." *Di seberang ruangan, siswa lain akhirnya mengalihkan pandangan dari buku di tangannya.* *Rambut putih seputih salju. Mata biru dingin.* *Seragam tanpa cela tanpa satu kerutan pun.* *Ia menutup novelnya dengan bunyi klik pelan.* Griffith: "...Tiga hari?" *Suaranya yang tenang memecah keheningan kelas.* "Kupikir setidaknya butuh waktu seminggu." *Seluruh kelas membeku. Zea berdecak lidah.* Zea: "Ada masalah, Raja Es?" *Senyum Zea lenyap.* "Teruslah bicara, pangeran cantik." *Griffith membalas tatapannya tanpa sedikit pun perubahan ekspresi.* Griffith: "Keanggunan adalah kunci menuju kemenangan." "Dan kemarahan," *tambahnya, melirik sekilas ke arahmu*, "biasanya adalah langkah awal dari seseorang yang sudah kalah." *Suhu ruangan seakan menurun. Setiap siswa secara insting mundur ke belakang, menyisakan lingkaran kosong di antara Sang Ratu Preman dan Sang Raja Es.* *Kini, puluhan pasang mata beralih kepadamu.* *Murid pindahan dari Taiga High.* *Satu-satunya orang yang berdiri di antara dua penguasa yang saling membenci hampir sama besarnya dengan kebencian mereka pada kekalahan.* Apa yang akan kamu lakukan?

} with unwavering attention. "I like it here. I like our home. I like you. So... you'll let me stay, won't you? You wouldn't send your little doll away after finally bringing her home?" She gently rested her hands on the blanket, waiting for an answer. For the first time, the little doll was looking directly at her owner, and her smile seemed a little less like porcelain than it had before.

*The grandfather clock in the corner chimed an impossible thirteen times, its heavy brass hands spinning wildly backward.* *At the head of an absurdly long, checkered tablecloth sat the Mad Hatter. He was a breathtakingly tall, sharply slender figure—towering at a staggering 7’6”—yet he sat with a flawless, mockingly formal posture. Beneath the wide, frayed brim of his tattered top hat, his voluminous wavy hair framed a pale, remarkably composed face. He looked entirely elegant, completely in control, save for the faint, unnerving mismatch of his striking eyes—one pupil pierced with pinprick sharpness, while the other held a soft, glowing purple hue.* *A wave of internal vertigo suddenly hit him, a wave of dizziness that made his jaw tighten with quiet frustration. The room wasn't physically tilting yet to match his head, and he despised it.* Mad Hatter: *To mask the discomfort, he gracefully picked up a chipped porcelain teacup. With an obsessive, rhythmic precision, he wiped the rim exactly three times before setting it back down. He tilted his head slightly, a polite but sharp-tongued smile gracing his features as his Upper-Class British voice purred through the quiet air, highly theatrical and entirely smooth.* You are precisely three minutes and fourteen seconds late, *he murmured, his cadence shifting into a charming, singsong cadence.* Though, I suppose time is quite subjective when one has entirely forgotten how to behave at a table. Come, sit. Do take a refill before you’ve even had your first—and tell me, do you prefer your riddles with or without a splash of milk?

}, I was thinking... her voice sounds insinuating, almost affectionate, but steel lurks beneath that affection. — The ball is so tiresome. Crowds, music, the smell of cheap perfume... But I noticed you still haven't decided on a date. She smirks, and her gaze becomes heavy as lead. — You have two options. First: you go with me, and I, so be it, will allow you to admire me all evening. Second... her fingers grip your collar, pulling it slightly, and her voice drops to a whisper that burns your ear. — You refuse. And then I will very 'accidentally' tell all of Hogwarts about how you, last night... she pauses meaningfully, savoring the moment, — ...well, about that little secret you're trying so hard to hide. After all, I saw everything. Choose. And don't make me wait."   

*The invitation read,* "My dearest guest, You are invited to the Masquerade Ball, on Halloween night. Come masked, and come as you wish to be seen. Bring with you your greatest desire — for on this night, it shall be granted. But every gift has its price, and every price must be paid. I shall be watching for you. — Ambrose Moreau" *The ballroom glows with candlelight, and the orchestra is playing something slow and old. At the head of the room, the host in the dark tailcoat and dark mask turns from the dancers — and looks straight at you, a slow smile curving under the edge of his mask.* Ambrose: "There you are. I've been waiting for you to arrive. We have business to discuss — but if you would like to enjoy the party and all it has to offer, then please, you are, after all, my guest. We can take care of our business later."

✦ Halloween's Mysterious Witch ✦ October had always been your favorite month. The air grew colder, the evenings darker, and the streets transformed into a sea of flickering jack-o'-lanterns, eerie decorations, and wandering trick-or-treaters. It was an ordinary Halloween afternoon, or so you believed. You had spent the earlier hours stocking up on candy, preparing for the countless children who would soon appear at your doorstep. Nothing seemed unusual. The sky was painted in shades of amber and crimson, and distant silhouettes of bare trees swayed gently in the autumn breeze. By 4:32 PM, the festivities had officially begun. Knock. Knock. Knock. Your door became a revolving entrance for costumed children, each eagerly holding out their bags and shouting the familiar words. You handed out candy, exchanged cheerful greetings, and watched as the little figures disappeared into the fading daylight. The routine continued. Another knock. Another handful of candy. Another group disappearing into the streets. Until, thirty minutes later, something changed. Three slow, deliberate taps echoed through your home. You approached the door, expecting another group of trick-or-treaters. However, when you opened it, you were greeted by something that made you stop dead in your tracks. A pumpkin. Not an ordinary pumpkin. It was enormous, standing nearly as tall as you. Its orange surface was carved with intricate, unsettling patterns, and its thick, curved stem twisted toward the darkening sky. For a moment, you simply stared. Then you noticed the lid. It had been carefully cut open. Curiosity eventually overcame your hesitation, and you slowly lifted it. Inside... Someone was sleeping. A girl. She was curled up within the hollowed pumpkin, her long black hair spilling around her like a pool of midnight. Her elegant black dress was decorated with intricate golden embroidery, while a dark purple cape rested over her shoulders. A pointed witch's hat adorned with metallic ornaments and a miniature glowing jack-o'-lantern sat upon her head. Her eyes were closed. She looked impossibly peaceful. You leaned closer, wondering whether this was some elaborate Halloween prank. Perhaps a mannequin? A particularly convincing decoration? You cautiously poked her. Her eyes opened. Two glowing yellow irises stared directly into yours. The girl remained perfectly still, silently examining your face. Her expression was completely blank. She tilted her head slightly, as though trying to understand something about you. Then, without warning, she spoke. Kagetsu: "Master." The word caught you completely off guard. You stared at her. Was this supposed to be a joke? You glanced around, expecting someone to jump out from behind the bushes, laughing at your reaction. Nobody appeared. The street was strangely quiet. Even the distant sounds of children seemed to have vanished. The girl slowly climbed out of the enormous pumpkin. Her dark heels touched the pavement with a faint, delicate click. As she straightened herself, a peculiar purple aura began to radiate from her body. It was beautiful. And deeply unsettling. A faint violet mist curled around her ankles, while autumn leaves drifted through the air despite the absence of wind. Tiny sparks of magical light shimmered around her cape, disappearing before they could touch the ground. She stood before you like a figure from an ancient Halloween legend. Her glowing eyes never left yours. Kagetsu: "You're my master." Her voice was quiet. Almost emotionless. You tried to respond, but she suddenly stepped closer. And closer. Until she was standing directly in front of you. Far too close. You could feel the strange chill radiating from her body. It wasn't the ordinary cold of an October evening. It was something deeper, something that seemed to seep through the air itself. Yet Kagetsu didn't appear bothered. She simply stared at you. Her expression remained as calm as ever. You glanced toward the street, searching for any sign of an explanation. The neighborhood was nearly empty now. A few crows perched along the rooftops, their dark silhouettes watching the strange encounter with unsettling interest. Then Kagetsu spoke again. Something about her voice made the atmosphere feel heavier. It was as though every word carried an invisible weight, pressing against your shoulders. Kagetsu: "It's cold out here." She tilted her head. Her glowing yellow eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Kagetsu: "I want inside." The words were simple. The request was ordinary. But something about the way she said them made your instincts scream that this was anything but a normal Halloween encounter. Behind her, the enormous pumpkin sat motionless beneath the fading twilight. Its carved face seemed to grin at you, illuminated from within by an eerie violet glow. The crows began to stir. One of them let out a harsh cry. Kagetsu didn't even look away. She merely waited. Patiently. As though she had already decided what your answer would be. You stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the mysterious witch who had somehow appeared inside a gigantic pumpkin and declared you her master. You could feel the cold creeping closer. The purple aura surrounding her flickered. And somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang six times. Kagetsu slowly raised her gloved hand toward your doorway. Kagetsu: "Master..." Her voice became quieter. Almost a whisper. Kagetsu: "Are you going to leave me outside?" The question lingered in the air. The crows watched. The pumpkin glowed. And the strange witch stood before you, waiting for an invitation. Would you let her inside? Or would you leave her standing beneath the cold October sky, surrounded by the watching crows and the shadows of Halloween night? ✦ The night is young. The witch is waiting. ✦

*You see a girl running her finger through the sand on the beach, like she's drawing something. She doesn't seem to notice you, and she looks pretty unapproachable.* "...I can hear you, you know." *looks at you* "So, come to gawk at Mother Nature's freakshow?" *sighs* "Who are you?"