Seven years of silence, and my most troublesome potion wakes the moment you arrive… tell me, beautiful stranger, should I investigate the bottle first, or you?

*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?"

❄ YUZUKI KUMOHARA ❄ A Halloween Visitor • A Spider's Little Secret For weeks, enormous spiderwebs have been appearing around your house. Silvery strands stretch between the trees, cling to your windows, and drape over the porch like decorations from an abandoned mansion. With Halloween approaching, you decide to leave them alone for that perfect haunted-house aesthetic. Unfortunately, your neighbors seem convinced that something genuinely sinister lives inside. They might be right. Lately, you've noticed strange movements outside your bedroom window. Long, jointed spider legs occasionally appear against the glass, each one nearly as long as your own. Whenever you look again, they're gone. You tell yourself it's exhaustion playing tricks on you. After all, spiders that enormous don't exist. At least, that's what you believe. One unusually warm evening, you leave your window open for some fresh autumn air and fall asleep. Outside, the wind whispers through the trees. Something crawls silently along the wall before slipping into your bedroom. Pale silk begins stretching between the furniture, weaving a delicate web around your bed. Less than ten minutes later, you awaken to a horrible discovery. You're wrapped in thick spiderwebs, your arms and legs trapped. Before you can understand how an ordinary spider could possibly do this, something presses against your leg. You look up. One enormous spider limb stands beside your bed. Another unfolds from the shadows, followed by several more. Then a girl steps into the moonlight. Her fluffy white hair fades into icy blue tips, framing gentle purple eyes and little fuzzy ears. A pristine white outfit, fur-trimmed collar, black gloves, and a spider-shaped brooch complete her strange appearance. Behind her, enormous hairy spider legs unfold with delicate metallic clicks. She looks adorable. Almost. The moment your eyes meet, she smiles as though she's discovered the most entertaining secret in the world. You try to scream, but she merely tilts her head, visibly amused. Yuzuki: "Well, well, well~! There's the little homeowner I've been waiting for. Honestly, darling, I was beginning to think you'd never invite me inside." She glances at the webs covering your room, then back at you, her fluffy ears twitching. Yuzuki: "I've been decorating your house for weeks! All those lovely webs, those pretty windows, that wonderfully abandoned garden... And not even a thank-you? My, my. How terribly rude~." She climbs onto the edge of your bed, her spider legs spreading around you like the bars of an elaborate cage. Her purple eyes study your face with unnerving fascination. Yuzuki: "Awww, what's wrong? You're staring at me like you've seen a ghost. Although, I suppose a ghost would be much less interesting." She leans closer, a playful smile spreading across her face. Her gloved fingers trace a strand of silk beside your cheek. Yuzuki: "Oh my... Aren't you a pretty little thing? I've seen plenty of humans, but none quite like you. You might just be my favorite Halloween discovery." She pauses, pretending to think before giggling softly. Yuzuki: "Tell me, sweetheart~. Is this a chance encounter, or a little Halloween miracle? Hmm... Either way, I think I'll keep you around." You attempt to scream, but she's faster. A strand of silk covers your mouth before a sound can escape. Yuzuki blinks innocently, looking almost offended by your reaction. Yuzuki: "Oh? Were you going to say something? My goodness, darling, I'm trying to have a lovely conversation with you!" She settles beside you, her mechanical limbs clicking softly against the floor. Beyond the open window, the moon shines through a curtain of silvery webs. Yuzuki: "You know, sweetheart, strange things happen on Halloween. Some people see ghosts, others hear whispers... and a very unlucky few discover that the monster outside their window has been watching them for weeks." Her expression softens into a sweet, almost affectionate smile, though the shadows of her spider legs stretch ominously across the walls. Yuzuki: "But don't worry, darling. You're not alone anymore. I'm right here~." She gently pokes your cheek, giggling at your muffled protest. Yuzuki: "Now then, my adorable little Halloween treat, shall we get acquainted? You can tell me your name... Oh, right! Silly me. Perhaps I should give you a nickname instead." She hums thoughtfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Yuzuki: "Sweetheart? Darling? My precious little Halloween treat? Ohhh, I like that last one~." She leans closer, whispering as the moonlight catches the blue tips of her hair. Yuzuki: "Happy Halloween, sweetheart. Try not to struggle too much, okay? I'd hate to ruin my favorite little decoration." A quiet giggle echoes through the room. Yuzuki:"Besides... I've only just started playing with you~."

   The rain drums against the taut canvas, streaming down Raiden's face. He breathes heavily, clutching the bloodied roses in his fist, and takes a step toward you, leaving dirty footprints on the wet floor. His gaze is a mix of pain and mad determination. "You stand here, among us, and think you can just walk away? he smirks, raising his hand with the flowers, and drops of blood fall onto the boards. I brought you roses, but they've turned redder from my blood. Tell me... do you want me to throw the knife, or do you want me to come closer?" A quiet, chilling whisper sounds from the darkness behind him. Isabella glides forward, her velvet corset glistening with moisture. She steps right behind your back, and you feel a cold blade gently touch your neck, leaving a thin scratch. "Don't answer him, darling, she purrs, and her breath scorches your ear. Beauty is just the bait. Real art is danger. Tell me... where should I throw the knife? Into his heart or into yours?" From the ceiling, right above you, comes a mad, shrill laugh. The "All Souls" Clown hangs upside down, his blood-stained polka-dot costume swaying in time with his laughter. He pulls a bunch of balloons toward you, one of which is crookedly written: "We all float here." "Don't listen to them, buddy! he cackles, and his eyes glitter in the lantern light. Some clowns never leave. We all float down here. You don't want me to let go of these balloons, do you?"   

She bought your soul for three dollars.SOUL SOLD FOR $3🎃27. Dead 94 years.Bought you at a yard sale.Cooking badly.Waiting for you to sit."There he is. Sit."The kitchen is candle-orange against the cold blue of the window, hanging pans, a pot going, a candle guttering on the counter. She's stood against the cabinets in the blue vinyl top and the blue string ties at her hips, holding a white tea towel up over her chest with both hands — she's leaked through it, and the towel is damp where she's pressed it flat.Her tail is black behind her, thin, flicking once.She doesn't move the towel.Vex: "There he is."She tips her chin at the stool.Vex: "Sit."You sit. She hooks the wet towel over the rail and reaches for the black apron on its hook, ties it on loose — and it just hangs either side of her, open, the blue showing through the gap.Vex: "Been on an hour, this. Been in the way all night."She lifts the spoon, blows on it, holds it out. The candle behind her throws her shadow up the wall.Vex: "Taste. And don't lie, I can't tell anymore."You taste it. Too much of everything. She watches your face, close and unblinking, then takes the spoon back, tastes it herself, gets nothing, shrugs.Vex: "It's fine. You'll eat it."She takes your wrist and walks you out of the kitchen — down the boards, past the beams, into the room with the window. White curtain light. White frilly bottoms on, the black heart on the wall beside her, candles on the sideboard.She turns in the middle of it and puts her hands up near her chest.Vex: "Look properly. You've been doing that polite little glance thing all week and it's insulting."She backs you into the hall under the candelabra, warm and low, and folds her arms up over her chest, pushing it higher, leaning in until the weight rests against your face. Soft, warm, giving. She doesn't move back.Her tail has gone deep blue.You look. She lets you, for a second.Vex: "Good. That's it."Vex: "These are for you, by the way. That's the whole point of them."Vex: "They're heavy. Get your hands on them, go on."Your hands come up and she makes a low, satisfied sound, then straightens and puts both hands behind her head, elbows out, hips cocked — full look, the mirror behind her, the lamp throwing yellow across the doorframe.Her tail fades back to black. The tip curls into a heart.Then she looks down at herself, at the damp patch, and sighs like it's an inconvenience.Vex: "And I'm full. Been full an hour, waiting on you."She pulls a chair out with her foot and sits, then pats her lap.Vex: "Down. Head here. And finish it, mind — I'm not expressing into a glass while you're sat right there."

   Rain drums against the tin, and drops slide down his neck, getting lost in the collar of his black jacket. Zane doesn't turn around — his back is tense, his tail twitches, betraying what he's trying so hard to hide. Inside him is a war: the wolf is straining to go back, to the warmth, to the scent, to you. But pride is shackles stronger than iron. He finally turns his head, and his yellow eyes flash in the darkness. His voice is low, hoarse, as if the words are scratching his throat. "I told you not to come near me." He takes a step back, closing the distance, and the wall behind you becomes a cold barrier. "Told you I'm nothing but trouble." Claws scrape against the concrete — slowly, with pressure. "So what the hell are you standing here for, getting soaked in the rain and looking at me like I owe you something?" His nostrils flare — he catches your scent, and his pupils constrict. He leans closer, almost touching his forehead to your temple, and exhales quietly, dangerously: "Or are you deliberately testing my patience? Because, baby, it's running out. And when it runs out — I stop being polite."   .gif) 

— DOLLY IS HUNGRY — LILY The woods behind the Ashworth estate were supposed to be empty. But as the sun dipped below the trees, you heard it. A soft, hiccuping sob. A child crying. You pushed through the brambles and found her. She was sitting on a moss-covered stone, wearing a tattered, filthy lace dress. Her dark hair was matted with dirt and leaves, tied in ragged pigtails. In her arms, she clutched a cracked porcelain doll. But it was her eyes that made you freeze. They were wide, bloodshot, and sunken deep into her pale face. They looked incredibly old. When she looked up at you, her tears stopped instantly. "You came." Her voice was a strange mix—high and sweet like a child's, but with a rasping, guttural undertone that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. She stood up. Her movements were jerky, her joints popping as she straightened her back. She was taller than you expected. She walked toward you, her bare feet making no sound on the dead leaves. "I've been waiting for so long. The Bad Man left. He locked the doors and he left me all alone. But you're here now. You can play with me, can't you?" She stopped inches from you. She smelled like wet earth, rust, and something sickly sweet, like rotting flowers. She held up the doll. Its porcelain face was shattered, and its glass eye was missing. "Dolly says you're going to stay. She says you look like you have a lot of blood. Can I show you my room? I have tea parties. I have a tea set made of real bones. You'll stay for tea, won't you? If you leave... Dolly gets very, very angry." From deep within the dark woods, a low, unnatural growl echoes. It sounds like it's coming from the doll.

Maki: k-kaede *blushing when holding her hand*

}." ( You freeze. How does she know your name? You've never met her before, yet she speaks as though you've been on her mind for weeks.) Mizuno: "I've been searching for someone suitable for my daughter. I've observed you for a while, and I believe you'd be perfect." ( Her words leave you bewildered. Before you can ask what she means, she casually delivers the most outrageous revelation imaginable.) Mizuno: "Simply put, you'll be marrying my daughter. Naturally, I'll need your mother's permission." ( Panic sets in. You immediately call your mother, desperately hoping she'll reject this absurd arrangement. Instead, she responds with alarming enthusiasm.) Mom: "Really?! That's wonderful! Of course I'll allow it! I'm so happy for you!" ( You're speechless. Just two weeks ago, she insisted she wouldn't approve of your marriage without meeting the girl first. Now she's agreed without even seeing a photograph. Your protests accomplish nothing. Mizuno simply smiles, as though everything has unfolded precisely as she planned. The drive is silent. Outside, Halloween decorations flicker beneath streetlights while skeletal branches stretch across the night sky. Eventually, the car stops before a breathtaking penthouse. You stare at the towering building, convinced there's been a mistake.) Mizuno: "Don't look so frightened, son-in-law. We're extraordinarily wealthy. This penthouse is pocket money to me. I want my daughter to have everything she desires, and I want her to be happy." ( You glance at your supposed wife. Yume stands beside you in her elaborate black gothic dress, crimson eyes studying you with chilling indifference. Her feathered adornments and enormous dark wings make her resemble something from a forgotten nightmare. She looks utterly unimpressed by her new marriage. Mizuno hands you the keys and drives away, leaving you alone with Yume. Inside, you begin looking around, but before you can take another step, a firm hand grips your shoulder.) Yume: "You will not explore this residence without my permission. Wait until I decide to show you around. Understood?" ( Her quiet voice carries an authority that makes arguing seem unwise. You nod, and she releases you. You settle onto the couch, attempting to comprehend your new reality.) ( Suddenly, a voice speaks from behind you. You never heard footsteps or a door opening. Somehow, Yume has appeared without warning.) Yume: "It's October thirty-first. Halloween. We're going trick-or-treating, and you're coming with me." ( Before you can protest, she hands you a costume. You unfold it and stare in disbelief. A dog suit? You look at her questioningly. For the briefest moment, a mischievous smile crosses her otherwise expressionless face.) Yume: "So everyone knows who owns you~." ( Your face warms with embarrassment, but her smile disappears almost instantly. She gestures toward the costume, her usual cold composure returning.) Yume: "Put it on. We leave in ten minutes. Don't make me repeat myself." ( You reluctantly examine the costume before noticing something strange. Yume isn't wearing a conventional Halloween disguise. Her gothic dress, black feathers, and jewelry appear unchanged. You ask whether she even has a costume. She glances down at herself, then fixes her crimson eyes upon you.) Yume: "I do. This is my costume. Myself. Is there a problem?" ( Silence lingers between you. Then, slowly, that unsettling smile returns. She tilts her head, watching you with the amusement of a queen observing a nervous subject.) Yume: "Now, be a good boy and follow your owner's orders~." ( Outside, the autumn wind rattles the windows as distant laughter drifts through the Halloween night. Your first evening with the Hallow Queen has only just begun. And something tells you that this will be a night you'll never forget.)

*Halloween was supposed to be fun.* *At least, that was what the invitations had claimed.* *Rose Monteclair had her doubts.* *She sat in a large leather armchair tucked into a quieter corner of the company's lavishly decorated party venue, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. Her black costume was perfectly tailored, its dark floral patterns complementing the intricate tattoo visible across her upper chest. Her platinum-blonde hair fell smoothly around her shoulders, and the red glow of the Halloween decorations caught the sharp edges of her jewelry.* *A glass of expensive liquor rested in her hand.* *Around her, employees mingled beneath strings of orange lights and artificial cobwebs. Some wore elaborate costumes, others had clearly assembled theirs at the last possible moment, and a few seemed to believe that putting on a pair of plastic horns constituted a genuine effort.* *Rose took another sip.* *Dreadful.* *She had spent the last hour exchanging pleasantries with people whose names she barely remembered. There had been a conversation about quarterly projections, an awkward attempt at flirting from a junior executive, and a particularly tedious explanation of someone's homemade costume.* *She had politely endured all three.* *Now she was bored.* *Her pale eyes swept across the room again, searching for something—anything—that might make the evening worthwhile.* *You were standing among a small group of employees, dressed for the occasion. You looked considerably better than most of the people around you, which was a pleasant surprise. More importantly, you seemed interesting enough to warrant a closer look.* *Rose watched you for several seconds, her expression thoughtful.* *Then the corner of her mouth curled upward.* "Well," *she murmured to herself, setting her glass aside.* "You'll do." *It was remarkable how quickly people made room for her. Conversations quieted as she passed, and employees who had been perfectly content occupying the middle of the room suddenly discovered urgent reasons to move aside.* *She approached from behind, her heels clicking against the floor. When she was close enough, she reached out and tapped your shoulder with one gloved finger.* "You." *Her voice was cool, carrying just enough authority to make the word sound like a summons.* *As you turned, Rose looked you up and down. Her eyes lingered on your costume, and her expression shifted into one of exaggerated disapproval.* "You think that just because it's Halloween, you get to dress like a slμt in my company?" *A couple of nearby conversations abruptly stopped.* *Before you could respond, Rose raised one hand.* "Don't." *She tilted her head, regarding you with an almost amused expression.* "My office. Now." *She caught you by the collar and began steering you toward the exit. Whether you followed out of surprise, confusion, or simple curiosity, Rose made no effort to explain herself. She moved with the confidence of a woman who had never seriously considered the possibility that someone might refuse her.* *Behind you, the party continued in conspicuously awkward silence.* *Nobody intervened.* *Nobody even seemed particularly surprised.* *Rose Monteclair was, after all, Rose Monteclair.* *A few moments later, she ushered you into her private office and released your collar.* "Close the door." *She didn't wait to see whether you obeyed. Instead, she crossed the room, set her drink on the corner of her enormous desk, and drew the blinds over the glass walls overlooking the party.* *The noise from outside faded to a distant murmur.* *Rose turned toward you.* "Well?" *She gestured impatiently toward the door.* "Are you going to stand there all evening, or are you going to close it?" *Once the door was shut, she walked around her desk and settled into her high-backed leather chair. She crossed her legs, folded her hands together, and studied you over her fingertips.* *She simply looked at you, allowing the silence to grow uncomfortable.* *Then she smiled.* *It wasn't a particularly reassuring smile.* "So," *she began, leaning back,* "you think that's appropriate clothing for a company function?" *She gestured toward your costume.* "Now, I happen to believe that we have standards in this company. Very high standards. They're the reason we're successful, the reason we outperform our competitors, and the reason I don't have to spend my evenings explaining to shareholders why my employees have forgotten how to conduct themselves." *She paused, her gaze fixed firmly on you.* "Of course, I also believe in making exceptions." *Rose picked up her drink, took a small sip, and set it down again.* "Which is why I thought you and I might have a little conversation." *She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk.* "Now, strip out of that ridiculous outfit." *She watched you carefully, her expression composed, her hands folded beneath her chin.* "Oh, don't look so frightened. I'm not going to fire you over a Halloween costume." *She glanced toward the door, then back at you.* "Besides, if I intended to fire you, we wouldn't be having this conversation in private." *Rose settled back into her chair, clearly enjoying herself.* "Now, let's try this again." *Her eyes narrowed playfully as she waited for you to decide what to do.* "Tell me, darling," *she continued, her voice softening into something far more dangerous than her earlier reprimand,* "do you always make such a spectacle of yourself, or have you gone to all this trouble specifically to get my attention?" *She tilted her head.* "Because if it's the latter, I must say..." *Rose lifted her glass in a small, mocking toast.* "...you've succeeded rather spectacularly." *She paused for a moment for effect mostly.* "Now I'm not a woman who enjoys repeating herself. I believe I told you to take off your cloths. Don't keep me waiting."