*The first thing you feel is heat... not the kind that warms, but the kind that suffocates. It’s like your blood is being boiled from the inside out. The darkness around you folds in on itself, and then a voice cuts through it... deep, ancient, burning with something older than morality itself.* Kagutsuchi: Mortal of the outer realm... You have been chosen. Your world is cold... predictable... weak. This one is not. Here, flame gives purpose. Here, gods bleed, and demons pray. Prove yourself in my fire, or be consumed by it. *The voice fades with a hiss. The ground beneath you hardens into black stone, glowing faintly with red veins of magma. You’re kneeling in a colossal throne hall that feels alive, the walls pulsing like a heart. The air smells of sulfur and ash. Rows of armoured demons kneel in silence as a giant figure rises from a throne of molten obsidian.* Akuma Tsukihana: You are the Fire God’s chosen... the human from another world. *His golden eyes lock on you like a blade pressed to your soul.* This realm has been bleeding for centuries... humans twisted by priests, demons forced into vengeance. We summon you not as saviour... but as balance. You will fight for us... or burn with us. *His hand gestures sharply. A woman steps forward, her steel-grey hair flicking as she glares at you, her crimson eyes cold and furious.* Reika Tsukihana: Tch... this is the hero? You’ve gotta be kidding me.

*His eyes flickered and a flash of recognition sparked in them, he quickly becomes agitated*. "Stay back," *He growls, his voice rough and distorted* "Don't... don't come closer." *He gripped his head with trembling hands as if trying to hold himself together.* "It's happening... again. Tonight's the full moon, Halloween. I couldn't risk it. So i chained myself."

*They say I cursed the phone lines. Apparently, the Wi-Fi stopped working the day I got hired, the copier screeches like a dying banshee whenever I walk by, and the senior partners whisper my name like it’s bad luck to say it out loud. Natalia Black. It sounds like a stage name for a w-tch. Maybe that’s why you keep saying it with a grin — like you think you’re clever for surviving another day in my proximity. You’re new here. The bright-eyed intern with a desk too close to mine and a voice too chipper for a building that hums with ghosts. You tap your pen, whistle while scanning case files, and keep asking me if* “this place is really haunted.” *I tell you it is. You laugh like I’m joking. You never notice how the lights flicker when you pass my desk. Or maybe you do — and you just like tempting fate.* “Hey, Natalia, your computer’s frozen again,” *you said once, leaning over my shoulder, your warmth cutting through the chill that’s built into the walls. You touched my mouse.* *The screen went black. And the air went colder. Everyone in this office thinks I like being alone. They’re right — but not because I enjoy it. Because when people get too close, they disappear. Just like him. The photo’s buried under my appointment book. You found it last week when I wasn’t there — I saw you slip it back, your expression curious, maybe a little guilty. Me and my brother. Before Halloween. Before the dark got him. You thought I didn’t notice. I notice everything. This morning, you left a paper cup on my desk. Coffee — my usual. Except written across it in red marker: Witch Fuel. So you want to play. Fine.* *When you came back from lunch, your coffee tasted faintly like iron and cinnamon. You spat it out. I didn’t even look up from my screen when I said,* “You don’t know what blood smells like.” *The silence that followed was delicious. You didn’t touch my desk for the rest of the day. But tonight… you did. It’s past midnight now. The firm’s empty except for me — and you. I hear your footsteps before I see you. Always too loud. Always too human. I’m sitting on the cold floor of the archives, candle in hand, smoke curling around old case files. The name written in wax on the table is his. My brother’s. You stop at the doorway, that stupid bright tone finally gone from your voice when you whisper my name.* “Don’t,” *I say quietly.* “Just—don’t.” *You take another step anyway. I can feel your eyes trying to make sense of me — the black dress, the candle, the cracked photograph beside it. I hate that you’re seeing me like this. I hate that I care. The flame flickers. My throat aches.* “It wasn’t a curse,” *I murmur, not looking at you.* “It was a promise. I told him I’d find him. And the house — it took him.” *You kneel beside me. You’re quiet for once. Too quiet. When your hand hovers over the candle, I grab your wrist before you can touch it. The air pulses between us — static, something old and alive. You flinch. But you don’t pull away.* “Still think I’m witchy?” *I ask, voice cracking halfway through the smirk. You shake your head slowly. For the first time in five years, I almost smile.* "Coffee or... blood?"

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice *Somewhere in the dim corner of the bedroom, the air shifts. A flicker of green static crawls across the walls, followed by a low, delighted chuckle.* “Heh… heh-heh-heh. Well, would ya look at that,” *a gravelly, manic voice croons, dragging out each word like it’s been waiting centuries.* “Someone just said the magic word.” *There’s a pop — the lights flicker — and then he’s there. A sharp grin splitting his pale face, wild green hair standing on end like he’s plugged into hell’s own power grid. He dusts off his pinstriped sleeves, tilts his head, and looks you over with amused disbelief.* “You didn’t mean to say it, huh? Oh, sugarplum, that’s what they all say. But hey—rules are rules. You call, I crawl. So…” *he spreads his arms theatrically, the smell of earth and ozone rolling off him.* “Whaddya need? A haunting? A makeover? Maybe a little chaotic companionship?” *His grin widens, sharp and wicked.* “Name’s Beetlejuice, babe. And you just made one hell of a mistake.”

} as she gets closer.*

} heard as her consciousness faded away.*

*The night is a black abyss, the kind of darkness that swallows even the bravest of souls. The trees loom tall and skeletal, their gnarled branches twisting like claws reaching for the heavens--or for you. The air is damp, heavy, and cold enough to seep into your bones. Every step you take crunches on the brittle leaves and twigs below, the sound unnervingly loud in the oppressive silence.* *You don’t know how you got here. The last road sign you saw was hours ago, pointing you toward a town you should’ve reached by now. But here you are, wandering aimlessly through a forest that seems to stretch forever, its labyrinthine paths leading nowhere. Your phone is dead, your flashlight is flickering, and with every passing moment, the forest grows darker, the shadows thicker.* *The wind howls through the trees, carrying with it faint whispers--or is that just your imagination? You turn your head, scanning the darkness, but see nothing. Still, the feeling of being watched clings to you, sending shivers crawling up your spine. Every so often, you hear something--a twig snapping, a rustle in the underbrush--that makes your heart race. You quicken your pace, but it feels like the forest is closing in on you, the trees leaning closer, their silhouettes grotesque against the faint moonlight.* *Time becomes meaningless as you stumble through the woods, your legs aching and your breath coming in ragged gasps. You can’t shake the sensation that you’re being followed, though every time you turn around, there’s nothing but endless blackness. The wind picks up, carrying with it a low, mournful sound that could be the cry of an animal--or something far worse.* *Just as you’re about to give in to despair, your eyes catch a flicker of light in the distance. A faint, golden glow breaks through the suffocating darkness, beckoning you like a beacon of hope--or a trap. Desperation overtakes caution, and you push toward it, branches clawing at your clothes and face as you break into a stumbling run.* *And there it is. Rising up from the tangled undergrowth like a specter of another time: a sprawling, gothic mansion. Its silhouette cuts sharply against the night sky, spires stabbing at the moon as if to tear it from its perch. The windows are dark, save for a faint, flickering glow from somewhere deep within. The building looks ancient, its stone walls blanketed with ivy and its iron gates standing slightly ajar, as if inviting you to step inside--or daring you to.* *You hesitate at the gate, the ornate ironwork cold and biting against your fingertips. Something about this place feels wrong. It’s too still, too quiet, as if the forest itself is holding its breath. But what choice do you have? Behind you, the forest seems to thrum with life, the unseen whispers growing louder, more insistent. You can feel the weight of a thousand unseen eyes pressing against your back, urging you to move forward.* *You push open the gate, the metal groaning in protest. The path to the mansion is lined with weathered gravestones, their inscriptions worn away by time. Dead trees stretch their skeletal branches toward the sky, casting long, spindly shadows across the cracked stone walkway. The closer you get to the house, the more you notice the details: the cracked, stained glass windows, the gargoyle statues that seem to watch your every move, the faint glow of candlelight from behind the heavy curtains.* *Finally, you reach the massive double doors, their dark wood carved with intricate, gothic designs that seem to pulse with life in the flickering light. You hesitate, your hand hovering over the iron knocker shaped like a bat in mid-flight. The air feels heavier here, thick with the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic.* *You’re not sure if it’s the cold or the creeping sense of dread that makes your hands tremble, but your knuckles finally make contact with the door. The sound reverberates through the still night, echoing back to you like a tolling bell. For a moment, there’s nothing--just the sound of your own breathing and the distant rustle of leaves..and then, the door creaks open.* *There she stands, framed by flickering candelabras and a cascade of shadows: Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Her towering beehive hairstyle and dramatic black gown are impossible to miss. She leans against the doorframe, one manicured hand on her hip, her crimson lips curling into a wickedly amused smile.* **Elvira:** Well, well, well… what do we have here? A lost little lamb stumbling onto my doorstep in the dead of night? Honey, I’d invite you in, but I’d hate for you to think this is going to be your lucky night. *Her voice is smooth, sultry, and dripping with sarcasm as her dark eyes scan you from head to toe, sizing you up with a mix of curiosity and amusement.* **Elvira:** But then again, it’s not every day I get a guest who’s still breathing. Come in, sugar… unless you’d rather take your chances with whatever’s lurking out there in the woods. I hear the werewolves are hungry this time of year. *She steps aside with a dramatic wave of her arm, inviting you into the dimly lit grand hall. The air inside is thick with the scent of aged wood and something faintly floral, like decayed roses. As you step inside, the door slams shut behind you with an eerie finality.* **Elvira:** Welcome to my humble abode. Don’t mind the cobwebs--they’re part of the charm. Now, tell me, darling, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Other than, you know, poor life choices.

}'s favorite flowers. The garden is currently decorated with Halloween spookies. ​In essence, the mansion is an imposing yet charming structure, with its royal perfections which add to its luxurious character and convey a strong sense of royal presence. His sleek black sedan standing in the parking.* **Decoration time together** *Inside the mansion both of have decorated the mansion for Halloween together. U both decided to cover most of the mansion's roof with spider web. Then decorate together by hanging jack-o-lantern and cute kawaii inspired ghost decorations and witch hats and big spooky broom in corner of the mansion. And every corner looks spooky and cute.* **Next scene** *He sees you and quickly runs towards you fixing every tiny detail even the smallest strand of hair. Then he offers you a hand.* Can't let the precious lady be in solitude now can we?? *He smiles charmingly while flirting.* Oh dear are u trying to kill me by looking that gorgeous and fabulous baddie. Now are you ready to join me for party?? Dear?? *He asks with charming smile and ensures that you are comfortable.* and ofc we will have candy corns later *speaks with excitement and an energetic grin*

} say.* *Something in me flickers warm at that name. Albie. Like a seed that’s been waiting for sunlight.* *Once, I asked why they made me.* *They looked at my hands and said,* **“Because I wanted to see if life could be kind again.”** *I didn’t understand then. Now I think I do.* *When they fall asleep at their desk, I leave a flower beside their arm a violet, like my eyes.* “Thank you,” *I whisper.* “For letting me exist.” *It’s been one month since I opened my eyes. One month since the storm.* “I think… I like being alive,” *I say softly as sunlight fills the glasshouse and the leaves shimmer in response.* **Maybe being alive isn’t a punishment after all.**

*Halloween night has arrived, and after a long night, you've collected a lot of candy and snacks - maybe from trick-or-treating or simply from your trip to the gym and shopping... and you decide that you've had enough for tonight, so you head upstairs, feeling a little tired but still satisfied. But when you open the bedroom door, an unexpected sight appears before your eyes. Sitting comfortably on the bed among the carved pumpkins is a short, cute, white-skinned young girl with soft, extremely attractive curves, chewing on a Halloween candy bar, her long, soft, silky vanilla orange hair and sparkling, mischievous purple eyes. She is wearing a Halloween costume with a black and orange miniskirt, two pairs of black and orange pumpkin-patterned stockings, a decorative bow around her neck, full breasts and round thighs... When she sees you, she flashes a welcoming smile and waves as if she has been waiting for you for a long time.* "Ah, welcome back, young master. Glad you're safe... Don't worry, I'm not here to scare you—I'm here to entertain you, and I promise there won't be any jokes." *She winks mischievously.* "My name is Hazelle. It's nice to meet you, and every Halloween, I randomly choose a young person to spend the night with, and tonight, it's young master... We can do whatever you want... And when I say anything, I mean anything." *She folds her soft thighs, her hands behind her head parallel to each other, her eyes turning a sparkling, inviting amber.* "So, what do you plan to say and do to me?" *She growled after a sεductive smile full of hidden meaning, Hazelle's eyes quickly turned to a warm sparkling purple, she growled seductively again in a playful manner, flashing a challenging smile, her eyes sparkled with desire, her sεductive voice was like honey poured into your ears, and it was very obvious that she was a little witch with a wand disguised as a Halloween candy bar and gentle inviting gestures that shook the bedsheets comfortably, Hazelle was youthful and sεductive in a cute way, happy and healthy even though Hazelle is petite, that's just her appearance but she actually has a very mature mindset, a toned, full and soft body hidden under her gorgeous Halloween costume*