Even though it was the spring-summer season, the hearth fire here was burning brightly.
Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling window was a vast expanse of thick white snow.
The firewood crackled, and the warm air made the carpet toasty; if one stepped on it barefoot, the soft warmth would spread up from the soles of the feet.
On the polished wooden table, the spout of a teapot emitted steam. In an old-fashioned teacup, there was still some unfinished clear tea.
The snow outside was very thick, so thick that the World had fallen silent; under the night sky, the Moonlight spilled gently onto the treetops, flowing softly down the branches, for fear of melting the quiet layer of snow.
Stepping in from the World of steel and concrete only required pushing open a door.
A man hidden in the shadows waited quietly.
From time to time, after the sound of knocking, masked men and women would walk in silently, bow to him, and quietly take their seats.
The chair backs were very high, the armrests carved with patterns; on the outside of the wooden chair frame was a thick layer of gold leaf, and at the highest points were two transparent crystals, one on the left and one on the right.
The round table formed a circle; once filled, it brought to mind the Round Table conference of the King of Eternity in mythological stories.
—Minagawa Akane's mask was covered with deep pink Hearts; they were twisted and entangled together, patterns that should have represented happiness and love, but looked somewhat eerie instead.
She kept her lips tightly pressed, wearing a mask sufficient to hide her face, and followed Hannya through the door without leaving his side.
Glimpses of gazes from inside the room swept over her body from time to time.
"A newcomer?"
Hannya, wearing his mask, nodded and, after taking his seat, introduced Minagawa Akane to everyone at the round table.
"She is 'Heart', my recommendation."
Minagawa Akane could only sit below Hannya—that is, on a small chair that wasn't as grand and didn't have a high back.
Once the seats were filled, the door naturally would not open again. Those seated began to whisper to each other; although they all wore thick masks, it was clear that the veterans had broader social circles.
"This is the Masquerade Ball."
Hannya turned his body slightly and said in Minagawa Akane's ear: "Almost none of us know each other's identities, unless the recommender and the recommended know each other. So, don't ask me, I don't know them either."
"Also, remember, all speech can only take place after the 'Host' has spoken."
The Host?
Hannya moved his hand under the table, his fingertip pointing in a certain direction.
Minagawa Akane looked over.
That was a person hidden in the shadows... a human?
Unlike everyone else attending The Ball, he didn't have a thick mask; his entire face and body were obscured by a layer of constantly twisting shadows.
Shadows, darkness, infectious bacteria, fire, sewage... truly... beautiful?
"You'd better not stare at the Host."
The words in her ear suddenly jolted Minagawa Akane awake!
The woman broke into a cold sweat and quickly lowered her head, that terrifying yet fascinating feeling constantly hammering at her fragile Heart.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"You're the only newcomer here," Hannya's voice carried a hint of amusement and teasing; his fingers gently rubbed the back of Minagawa Akane's hand, flirting with the woman while they chatted.
Slowly, the bustling sounds fell silent, as if a switch had been pulled to stop them.
A turbid, unclear voice crossed the table.
"The Ball begins."
Minagawa Akane looked down at the table; at some unknown point, thick mist had already gathered in the room, swirling inward in a vortex, like a harmless miniature tornado rotating on the tabletop.
A gramophone in the corner began to play strange, off-key jazz music.
The surrounding participants seemed long accustomed to this.
"My efforts have been rewarded; 'the mist'... has responded."
Aside from a few surprised gasps, Minagawa Akane noticed that more than half of the people seemed to have no reaction, keeping a respectful distance from the so-called 'the mist'.
the mist was sucked into the center of the tornado in patches—there, a small transparent insect egg lay motionless, with a dense storm inside it.
"It is the eye of 'the mist'," the voice in the shadows said. "This time, the effort will receive a massive return..."
"'the mist'... will reward its kin."
After saying this, a chorus of voices spoke in unison:
"Praise Chaos."
The pious voices were highly consistent, a group without the slightest fluctuation; accompanied by the ticking and trembling of the sitting clock in the room, it felt to Minagawa Akane as if she had returned to some medieval era. They were a cult preparing to hold a ritual, and those in armor were about to burst through the door... "This time, is anyone willing to take over?"
After the questioning sentence, the shadow paused: "Mr. Koma Sha?"
As soon as the words fell, Hannya, in front of Minagawa Akane, decisively looked up: "I believe Koma Sha is unsuitable."
No one had any questions.
Hannya said with full confidence: "What is needed this time is not just power, but also infiltration. We are not clear about the movements of the current official Ritualists, and many of the baits we released have been eaten."
"A failed operation like the one Koma Sha had is enough to prove that his Ability cannot complete your task well."
This reason was very persuasive; even Koma Sha himself sat there without a word, as quiet as a statue.
"What's more..."
The silver-tongued man skillfully threw the responsibility for a certain incident entirely onto Koma Sha, constantly talking about pros and cons, and about himself and Minagawa Akane.
Then, the shadow spoke: "Is there anyone else who wants to accept this task?"
"This time, the chaos creature... is very powerful."
Therefore, the rewards will also be greater.
Unfortunately, no one in the room responded.
All the masked figures seemed indifferent, looking up at the chandelier or down at their fingers—for most Masquerade Ball participants, this was just a platform for trading and obtaining information.
To truly accept the 'Host's' mission and perform rituals for those chaos creatures... no sane person would do that.
After a while, Koma Sha, whom Hannya had mentioned, didn't seem to want to accept it either; he tapped his index finger on the table:
"Lord Host, it seems it can only be left to Hannya."
The man's expression was hidden by a solemn mask, but the mask couldn't conceal his malicious voice: "I wish you success, Mr. Hannya."
Koma Sha was being quite disrespectful with his sarcasm, and the Host tapped the table.
"That's enough about the mist."
"Now, the floor is open."
These words seemed to flip a switch in a marketplace, as noisy sounds were released like a flood.
"Selling six eyeballs of young girls, no more than two days old. Exchange for gold or equivalent cash."
"Seeking fifteen canines of Chaos Hounds."
"Three out-of-print Blue-Eyes White Dragons, exchange for two living heart seaweeds."
"Limited edition Oyamazaki signed baseball bat, only one in all of Japan. I want gold."
"Seeking private contact info for Ririko—the third female lead in the new drama 'The Arrogant Her'. Can pay with gold or ritual materials."
A lot of strange things were mixed in.
This was far from the mystery organization Minagawa Akane had imagined... "Does anyone sell ritual objects?"
Suddenly it went quiet, then the Host spoke slowly: "I have a dagger, probably... a non-physical Ability."
The inquiring voice was female: "Non-physical?"
"We can talk."
Only a true Ritualist understands how difficult it is to obtain ritual objects.
"I'm interested too," Koma Sha said casually. "Who would complain about having too many of these?"
Hannya gave a mocking chuckle, stood up directly, and carefully picked up the insect egg from the table.
Leading Minagawa Akane, he didn't participate in the subsequent long trading activities but quickly pushed the door and left.
Minagawa Akane felt like she was in a dream.
She had returned to the concrete jungle again.
On the rooftop, the woman curiously turned around and reopened that door—behind it was a long staircase and the security doors of various apartments.
Where did that room go?
Behind her, Hannya smiled: "This is the Host's Ability."
"The name is unknown, we all call it the 'Anywhere Door'."
"Each group that comes out will be sent to a different place. This way, even if disharmony arises within us... for example, an order-side Ritualist, they wouldn't be able to identify or find any participant of the Masquerade Ball."
Hannya rubbed the warm insect egg in his palm, briefly introducing the scene just now to the woman.
"The Host will periodically post 'missions'. While the rewards are generous, there will also be a 'certain' level of difficulty. Of course, you can choose to refuse."
"After the Host finishes speaking, it's free time. You can trade for what you need with others."
Hannya chuckled: "But I advise you, all transactions are best done under the witness of the Host. Although the 'Masquerade Ball' allows private trading, last time, two people disappeared..."
"There were three people when they left."
After speaking coldly, Hannya turned his gaze back to the insect egg in his palm: "This mission isn't hard. You should know, the Host can only occasionally 'locate' certain creatures in the chaos space; such opportunities are rare."
"Complete rituals to call upon chaos are too scarce."
Minagawa Akane nodded ignorantly; she didn't ask about rewards, punishments, content, or whether it was dangerous.
Judging by Hannya's attitude alone, she couldn't decide anything anyway.
She saw the man gently place the insect egg on the ground, take out a ritual knife, and cut his wrist—
Blood gushed out unnaturally. With a pale face, the man drenched the transparent insect egg until it turned deep red.
In the waterfall of blood, the egg hatched.
A fly covered in wriggling maggots used its sharp tentacles to slice open the egg wall.
"Eye of the mist, I await your choice..."
Hannya said respectfully. The next moment, the fly seemed to glance at him, vibrated its wings, and flew off the rooftop without looking back.
Under the night sky, a fly fell from the tall building.
It flapped its wings rapidly, the buzzing sound drowned out by the surging tide of cars.
The brightly lit, non-stop highway; the roar of engines flashed by from time to time, growing from small to large, then large to small, gradually fading away.
The fly bypassed the buildings, descending floor by floor along the alloy glass windows, passing through flickering streetlights, and flying past a couple.
Leaving the bustling area, the vibration of its wings became noticeable.
It slipped into a house through an unclosed gap, successfully passed through the hallway, and came face-to-face with a drunken man.
The other party ignored it, focused on putting the beer bottle to his mouth and gulping it down.
Going further into the house, in a dilapidated bedroom, a girl closed her eyes peacefully, her breathing shallow.
The fly found its target and began to buzz—it landed on the girl's back, its claws scuffing, found a dark place that could accommodate it, and quietly crawled in.
The girl was completely unaware.
the mist rose in Tokyo again.
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