Rhea moved forward.
Inside, the banquet hall unfolded like a carefully constructed illusion. Chandeliers shimmered overhead. Gold and red drapery lined the walls. Music flowed—slow, deliberate, elegant. Masks hid faces. Bands marked wrists.
Everyone looked unfamiliar.
And safe, in a strange way.
She took a glass from a passing server but didn't drink. Her eyes moved across the room calmly, cataloguing space, exits, people. Old habits. Survival habits.
Groups of students laughed behind masks.
"Who planned this?" someone said nearby.
"Owner's insane."
"No, she's terrifying."
Rhea didn't react.
She walked deeper into the hall, heels steady, posture composed. A few glances followed her—inevitable. The dress, the way she carried herself, the quiet intensity that didn't ask for attention but pulled it anyway.
She ignored them all.
A girl brushed past her accidentally. "Sorry," she said quickly.
Rhea nodded once. "It's fine."
She stopped near one of the tall pillars, letting the room exist around her instead of forcing herself into it. Music rose. Lights dimmed slightly, shifting tone. Someone laughed too loudly. Glass clinked.
Behind the mask, Rhea breathed slowly.
One hour, she reminded herself.
She touched the band on her wrist unconsciously, grounding herself in the texture. Her phone rested heavy in her clutch, Shyra only a call away.
"First time here?" a voice asked politely.
Rhea turned slightly. A masked boy stood a respectful distance away.
"Yes," she replied.
He smiled beneath the mask—she could tell by the curve of his cheeks. "Same. Feels like we stepped into someone else's world."
Rhea answered honestly, "It does."
He gestured toward the crowd. "At least the masks help."
"They do," Rhea agreed.
He waited, perhaps expecting more.
She didn't give it.
After a moment, he nodded awkwardly. "Enjoy the night."
"You too."
He left.
Rhea stayed where she was, watching lights move across gold surfaces, watching strangers exist without knowing her name.
The mask hid her face.
The band marked her presence.
And for the first time in a long while, Rhea Nior stood somewhere no one could read her scars—
not knowing that somewhere else in the same hall, another mask of the same color moved through the crowd,
equally controlled,
equally unaware,
fate tightening its grip without either of them noticing.
The music cut abruptly.
For half a second, the banquet hall fell into an unfamiliar quiet—one that made people look up instinctively, glasses paused midair, conversations trailing off unfinished.
Then lights shifted.
A soft spotlight moved toward the stage at the front of the hall, illuminating a young woman in a shimmering gown. She held a mic, smiling wide, excitement practically bouncing off her.
"All right, everyone," she announced brightly. "It's surprise time!"
The room erupted.
Cheers rose. Whistles echoed. Someone clapped too loudly. Masks turned toward the stage, bodies leaning in, curiosity sparked and alive.
Rhea stiffened.
She didn't cheer. She didn't smile. She simply stood where she was, fingers tightening around her glass before she set it down untouched on a nearby table.
Surprises are never kind, she thought.
The girl on stage laughed, letting the noise settle before continuing. "So tonight's theme wasn't just for aesthetics," she said. "It's interactive."
That word made Rhea's jaw tighten.
"Now," the girl continued, lifting a card, "we have ten pairs in this hall tonight who were given the exact same theme—same color band, same color of mask."
A ripple went through the crowd.
"Exactly the same," the girl emphasized, eyes gleaming. "Which means—"
People started looking at each other's wrists.
At masks.
At bands.
Rhea's breath slowed deliberately.
No. No. No.
"And," the girl finished, voice rising theatrically, "we want to see you."
The crowd roared again.
"So," the girl said, pointing toward the audience, "whoever you are—ten pairs—please come forward. Don't worry, we'll help you find each other."
Rhea's heart thudded once. Hard.
She looked down at her wrist.
Red band. Gold threading.
Her fingers brushed the fabric unconsciously.
Please, she thought. Please don't let someone match this.
Around her, movement began.
A couple near the bar compared masks.
"Oh wait—yours is different."
"No, mine has silver edges."
"Okay, false alarm."
Two girls laughed nervously and stepped forward, holding hands. A boy raised his arm and called out, "We match!"
The girl on stage clapped. "Great! That's one pair!"
Rhea stayed perfectly still.
She didn't scan the room wildly. She didn't turn her head too fast.
She didn't want to see.
She didn't want to know.
Please don't let it be, she prayed, not knowing who she was praying about anymore.
She stopped herself.
Across the hall, Ling Kwong stood near a tall column, posture relaxed but eyes sharp beneath the gold bauta mask.
She hadn't reacted outwardly when the announcement came.
But something inside her had gone cold.
Ten pairs.
Exactly the same.
Her fingers curled once at her side.
She glanced down at her wrist—red band, unmistakable.
Her jaw tightened.
"This is unnecessary," she muttered under her breath.
Rina, standing a short distance away, leaned in. "You okay?"
Ling didn't look at her. "Who approved this?"
Rina shrugged. "You did. Technically."
Ling exhaled slowly.
On stage, the girl continued, counting cheerfully. "That's three pairs! Seven more!"
Ling scanned the room briefly—not searching, she told herself. Assessing.
She didn't see anyone wearing the same mask.
Good.
She didn't want to.
Let it stay that way, she thought, sharper than a wish, closer to a command.
Students moved forward hesitantly, laughing, embarrassed, excited. Some pairs discovered mismatches and retreated awkwardly.
Rhea pressed herself closer to the pillar she stood near, like she could disappear into the marble.
A boy near her whispered to his friend, "Hey, doesn't yours look like—"
"No," his friend interrupted quickly. "Mine's different. Relax."
Rhea's shoulders loosened by a fraction.
On stage, the girl frowned playfully. "We're still missing pairs," she teased. "Don't be shy!"
She scanned the crowd theatrically. "Trust me, we will find you."
A spotlight moved slowly over the hall.
Rhea's breath caught as the light passed near her, then moved on.
She swallowed.
Please don't look again.
Ling's eyes tracked the light briefly, then away. Her stance remained unchanged, but the chain at her neck felt heavier than usual.
"This is ridiculous," she said quietly.
Rina glanced at her. "You look tense."
Ling replied flatly, "I don't enjoy games."
On stage, the girl laughed again. "All right, all right! We'll give you one more minute."
The countdown began.
"Sixty seconds!"
The hall buzzed louder now, nervous laughter layered over anticipation.
Rhea closed her eyes for half a second.
Let this end. Let it pass. Let me go home without—
Ling looked at her watch.
End this, she thought. Now.
Neither of them moved.
Neither stepped forward.
Neither saw the other.
And somewhere above them, under chandeliers and gold light, fate watched patiently—
already smiling.