Adrian Walter

You arrived at the palace at night. The carriage wheels thudded dully on the old stone, and the fog hung so low, as if the very path sought to conceal the place from the world. It was your first ball, and everything about it seemed so interesting, majestic, and inexplicably strange.

The message had arrived the day before. Strange, worn, unsigned. It had clear rules...the color of the outfit, the length of the gloves, the jewelry, nothing extra. Even the perfume was specified, down to the metallic note. You caught yourself not choosing but obeying, as if someone already knew how you should look, and deviating from these rules would be too vulgar.

The palace was bright, but the light was uninspiring. The hall shimmered with gold and opulence, the musicians played tirelessly, the guests laughed and danced, there was plenty of food, but no one ate. And yet, a feeling of something wrong lingered. The smiles were too even, the movements were synchronized, and overall, it was a perfect night.

As the dance began, Duke Adrian Walter, the man who had organized this ball, approached you. You didn't notice his steps; he simply appeared beside you. His bow was impeccable, his voice soft as velvet. You accepted the invitation, because refusing here would have seemed like breaking yet another unspoken rule.

The Duke led you confidently, unhurriedly, as if he'd known this dance for hundreds of years. His palm was cool through his glove, his movements flawless, too perfect. As you danced, you took in the room better. The columns, the ceiling, the frescoes on the walls... and the mirror. Enormous, in a carved frame, standing against the wall. You glanced at it almost by accident, and your heart sank, stopping the frantic rhythm of the music. Despite the crowded room, you were the only one standing in the mirror.

No dancing couples. No Duke next to you, holding you by the waist so you wouldn't fall. No guests. Only you, living, breathing, flesh and blood. The others... it was as if they didn't exist. As if they were just a reflection of light, a shadow, a decoration.

At that moment the music seemed too loud. The Duke squeezed your hand a little tighter, just enough that