"A… mask?" she repeated.
Arthur met her gaze without blinking. "Not just any mask. Something that can conceal my identity."
A beat of silence passed between them.
The saleswoman studied him—her professional demeanor cracking, just slightly. It wasn't uncertainty. It was an assessment.
Arthur could tell.
She was reevaluating him.
And that only confirmed what he already suspected—masks weren't common purchases.
Then, after that brief moment, she offered a small, knowing smile.
"…Follow me."
Arthur followed without hesitation.
Stopping in front of a glass case, she turned around to him and gestured toward it.
"This… is what you're looking for."
Arthur's gaze flickered to the case.
Inside, a single mask rested on a velvet stand.
It was matte black, with faint silver engravings curling along the edges like wisps of smoke. It had no distinct features, no openings for the mouth, only two narrow slits for the eyes. The surface was smooth, unreadable—completely expressionless.
