Elara's POV
The music had a strange cadence. It felt like the world itself was out of sync here—timeless, yet suffocating. Every step I took seemed to echo louder than the last, as though the Masked Court itself was listening, waiting for my next move. The masked figures twirled and laughed in the shadows, their movements fluid, like dancers caught in a dream.
The man in the fox mask stood before me, a calculating glint in his eyes. His grin widened, showing the faintest flash of silver teeth.
"You're here to play, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low and velvet-soft.
I glanced at the goblet in his hand but didn't reach for it. The wine shimmered in the light, the color a deep, almost unnatural red.
"Play?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you're doing?"
The man chuckled, his head tilting slightly, as if amused by my words. "I'm not playing, darling. I'm watching. And so are you." His smile grew wider, and he gestured around the ballroom. "Everyone here is a player, but none of them are who they appear to be."
I swallowed. The tension in the air thickened, and the whispers of the other masked figures seemed to grow louder, more intrusive. They were all watching me, their identities hidden behind those strange, elaborate masks. Some wore silver faces, others adorned with feathers, while some had cracked glass for eyes.
I clenched my fists, trying to calm the fluttering in my chest. The trial had already begun. The hourglass was running, and I had no time to waste.
"The game isn't as simple as it looks," the fox-masked man said, his voice dipping into something darker. "You'll need to make a choice soon, Elara. The truth you're searching for isn't just hidden here; it's tangled up with the lies you've been telling yourself."
I took a deep breath. The system had warned me: Lies are heavier than truth.
"I didn't come here for riddles," I replied, my voice steady despite the racing of my heart. "I'm here for a name."
His eyes glittered with amusement, but his smile faltered for a moment. Then he looked at the wine in his hand and raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure you're ready to uncover the truth?" he asked, almost teasing. "Sometimes, the truth is more dangerous than the lies we tell."
Before I could respond, the system pinged.
> [SYSTEM NOTICE: NAME REVEAL - WARNING]
If you are ready to face the truth, consume the wine.
Consequence: Permanent Loss of Memory Fragment.
The fox-masked man's grin was sharp now. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the center of the room, where a large silver mirror stood, reflecting only distorted shadows of the dancers.
"Drink, Elara," he whispered. "And see if you can live with the consequences."
I hesitated. My mind raced, but I knew I couldn't afford to waste time. I needed answers. But what would the cost be?
The room seemed to close in around me, the figures in masks watching as I held the goblet in my trembling hand. I could feel their eyes on me, judging me, waiting for me to make the wrong choice.
"Do you know what's behind the mask, Elara?" the fox-masked man asked. His voice was low, barely a whisper, but it echoed in my head.
I took a step forward. "I don't care what's behind the mask. I want the truth."
With that, I drank.
The moment the wine hit my lips, the room spun. It wasn't just dizziness—it was as if the very fabric of the world shifted. The music stopped. The dancers froze. I was no longer in the ballroom.
I was somewhere else.
---
[SYSTEM UPDATE]
> You have entered the Realm of Forgotten Names.
Trial Objective: Find the true name of the Masked One.
Time Limit: 12 hours.
Failure: Memory Fragment will be permanently erased.
---
I found myself standing in a barren landscape, where nothing existed but endless gray sand. The sky above me was a dull, lifeless silver. In the distance, I saw a silhouette—a lone figure, walking slowly toward me.
As the figure drew closer, I saw the outline of a mask. A featureless, smooth mask, not unlike the one I had worn in the Masked Court.
The figure stopped just in front of me.
"You've come to search for a name," the masked figure said, their voice soft, like a breath of wind. "But names can't always be trusted."
"I'm not here for games," I snapped, trying to ignore the rising unease inside me. "I need to know who you are."
The figure didn't answer right away. Instead, they raised a hand and reached toward me, pulling off their mask in one slow motion.
What I saw beneath it made my blood run cold.
The face staring back at me was my own.
But different. Older. Worn by time and sorrow, as if it had been molded by hands that had long forgotten how to care.
"I am you," the figure whispered.
---
End of Chapter 10