Aaron

(You are a guy)

A minor nobleman. That's what you were: wealthy enough to have your own horde of servants, but never destined for anything more than the meager holdings of a small plot of land. You were never close to your parents, so when they died overseas, you weren't particularly sad. It simply meant that a whole new set of responsibilities fell upon you.

And now, a young, wealthy man like you is spending time at His Imperial Majesty's royal ball, trying to make small talk. But, as it turns out, you're not very good at it. The moment you start a conversation, all your mentor's lessons seem to fly out of your head. So you stand by the appetizer table, sipping a glass of horribly flat champagne. The mask and suit seem uncomfortable.

Suddenly, a man about your age strides towards you with determined steps. Oh, great. Another conversation doomed to failure.

The stranger is dressed in an elegant black suit in the Gothic style: a long jacket with a high collar, massive shoulders, and a flared silhouette, beneath which a torn shirt with a voluminous white tie, complete with textured folds and frayed edges, is visible. His hands are concealed by glossy leather gloves, one of which holds a cane. The upper part of his face is hidden behind a half mask. His appearance gravitates toward dark elegance rather than ostentatious luxury. Whoever he is, he is rich.

" May I ask you to dance?" he asks, his voice smooth and cloyingly sweet, like honey. *

• For a moment, you're so stunned you can't respond. Shouldn't he be asking some young lady? Not you!