It happened suddenly.
Too suddenly.
A girl near the center of the hall tilted her head, eyes sharp beneath her glittering mask. She had been comparing bands lazily, half-bored, half-invested—until her gaze caught on gold.
Not one.
Two.
Her eyes moved again.
From the tall, masked figure standing with quiet authority near the column—
to the woman near the pillar, half-hidden, posture controlled but tense.
The same theme mask.
The same gold detailing.
The same red band.
The girl's breath hitched.
"Oh my God," she blurted out, loud and unfiltered. "THEY MATCH."
The words cut through the music like a blade.
"What?"
"Who?"
"Where?"
Heads turned instantly.
Before Rhea could even process what had been said, the girl pointed—finger straight at her.
"And her," the girl said loudly, almost triumphant. "And that one there—look! Same mask, same band!"
Rhea's heart slammed violently against her ribs.
No.
She took a step back instinctively, trying to disappear into the bodies behind her.
But the crowd reacted faster.
Cheers exploded.
"That's them!"
"Come on!"
"Get them on stage!"
"Don't hide!"
Hands reached out—not touching her, but closing in. The crowd shifted, bodies circling, excitement feeding on itself.
Rhea tried to move sideways.
Blocked.
She turned the other way.
Blocked again.
"Please—" she started, voice low, almost lost.
No one heard.
They were cheering too loudly.
Across the hall, Ling's head snapped up at the noise.
Her eyes followed the direction of pointing fingers.
She saw the girl shouting.
She saw the crowd parting.
She saw the second figure being pushed forward.
Gold mask.
Red band.
Her breath stalled.
For one sharp second, Ling felt something snap tight in her chest—fast, painful, instinctive.
"What the hell," she muttered.
Rina frowned. "What?"
Ling didn't answer.
She stared.
Not because she recognized the person.
She didn't.
The mask hid the face. The posture was unfamiliar. The dress wasn't something she associated with memory.
And yet—
Her chest tightened again.
Harder.
Rhea felt it at the exact same time.
A sudden pressure. Like air leaving her lungs without permission. Like her body had reacted before her mind could catch up.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress.
Don't panic. Don't panic.
"Come on!" someone laughed near her. "You can't hide now!"
"I don't want to—" Rhea said, louder this time.
A girl beside her smiled apologetically but kept moving with the crowd. "It's just a game!"
Rhea shook her head. "I really don't—"
The circle closed fully now.
There was no escape without shoving someone aside—and she couldn't bring herself to do that.
Across the space between them, Ling stood frozen.
People noticed her hesitation.
"Oh! That one too!" someone shouted.
"Don't just stand there!"
"Move!"
A hand brushed Ling's arm lightly, encouraging.
Ling looked down at it.
Then back up.
Her jaw tightened.
"I didn't agree to this," she said flatly.
The person laughed nervously, clearly not realizing who they were speaking to. "Relax, it's fun."
Fun.
Ling exhaled slowly through her nose.
The crowd's energy surged again, pulling her forward—not physically forcing, but socially inevitable.
Two separate currents.
Two unwilling participants.
Both being guided toward the same invisible center.
Rhea's steps were small, controlled. She kept her head down, mask shielding her eyes. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears.
Why does this feel wrong?
Why does it feel familiar?
Ling moved with longer strides, posture straight, irritation masking something far more dangerous underneath.
Get through this, she told herself. Then leave.
Neither of them looked directly at the other.
Not yet.
They were still several feet apart when the cheering reached its peak.
"That's it!" the girl on stage shouted excitedly. "Yes! Bring them forward!"
Spotlights shifted.
Light spilled across gold.
Rhea flinched as it brushed her shoulder.
Ling's eyes narrowed slightly as the same light skimmed her mask.
Their chests tightened again—simultaneously.
Unexplained.
Uninvited.
The crowd formed a loose circle around them now, clapping, laughing, thrilled.
"Stand closer!"
"Face each other!"
"Let them see the match!"
Rhea swallowed hard.
Ling clenched her jaw.
Neither recognized the other.
Neither spoke.
But both felt it—
That sudden, sharp awareness.
Like standing too close to fire without knowing why the heat felt familiar.
The music softened.
The noise dimmed just enough.
And for the first time since the announcement—
They stood within a few steps of each other,
masked,
unnamed,
hearts misbehaving,
fate holding its breath—
waiting.
Ling stepped forward through the loose circle of people, gold mask catching the light, red band stark against her wrist. Her expression was unreadable, but something tight sat behind her ribs—sharp, unfamiliar.
She stopped in front of the other masked woman.
Rhea.
But Ling didn't know that.
Rhea looked up at the movement, breath shallow. The crowd pressed closer, excited, expectant. Someone laughed nervously behind her.
"Go on," a voice urged.
"Take her hand!"
"It's just for the stage!"
Ling didn't speak.
She simply extended her hand.
Open palm. Steady. Controlled.
Rhea stared at it like it wasn't real.
Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure others could hear it. Her first instinct was to step back—to refuse—but the space behind her was gone. The crowd had closed in completely.
Her fingers hovered.
This is ridiculous, she told herself. You're overreacting.
She placed her hand in Ling's.
The moment their skin touched—
Both of them froze.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't visible to the crowd.
But inside—
Ling's breath stuttered.
A sharp, electric jolt ran up her arm, straight into her chest. Her fingers tightened instinctively, not gripping, just… confirming.
No, her mind said immediately. That's not possible.
Rhea sucked in a quiet breath.
Her knees almost buckled.
The warmth of the hand holding hers felt wrong in the most specific way—familiar without memory, grounding and terrifying at the same time.
I'm hallucinating, she thought wildly. I'm tired. I shouldn't have come.
Neither of them looked at the other.
Not really.
The masks made it easier to pretend.
"You good?" someone asked Ling lightly from the side.
Ling nodded once, jaw tight.
Rhea said nothing.
Their hands remained joined.