Episode 5: The Mask Slips Both Ways

“Some masks hide monsters. Others reveal them.” — Unknown

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[Riven Ainsley’s POV]

There’s something inherently sinister about a masquerade ball.

Everyone’s pretending to be someone they’re not—hiding behind velvet and gold, speaking in riddles, brushing hands in secret like they’re writing sins into skin.

It’s poetic.

And it’s also the perfect setting for me to test a theory.

Lucien Valehart is hiding something.

I don’t know what yet, but I can feel it—clawing at the edges of every conversation, tightening the air whenever he looks at me like I’m a dream he’s not supposed to have.

He’s not just reacting to my presence.

He’s responding to something he already knew.

I intend to find out what.

And I intend to look flawless while doing it.

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I enter the ballroom in obsidian silk trimmed in violet—a scandalous shade for a scandalous man.

My mask is silver, shaped like fox ears. Fitting.

Gasps trail me like perfume. I know I’m overdressed. I also know I look like temptation dipped in arrogance.

That’s the point.

Aurelia stands near the grand stairway, all gold and softness, surrounded by wide-eyed admirers.

I offer her a brief nod and she gives me a cautious smile.

Things between us have… shifted. She’s no longer frightened. She’s confused.

Good. Confusion delays betrayal.

I make my way toward the balcony, letting the crowd part around me like the tide bowing to the moon.

Then I feel it.

A presence.

Him.

I don’t turn.

“Enjoying the show?” I ask coolly.

Lucien steps beside me without a sound, cloaked in black and wearing a half-mask shaped like a raven. Of course.

“I always enjoy watching you perform,” he murmurs. “Though I wonder… do you ever stop acting?”

I sip my drink. “Only when no one’s watching.”

“So… never, then.”

I chuckle. “Takes one to know one, Your Highness.”

His gaze drags across my face. Not like a lover. Like an analyst. A predator dissecting a puzzle.

“You changed the party again,” he says after a beat.

I glance at him sideways. “Did I?”

“In the last version, you never danced.”

I freeze.

Last version.

“What did you just say?”

Lucien turns, slowly, deliberately. “You heard me.”

His voice is calm, like he didn’t just admit to remembering a timeline that shouldn’t exist.

“I think I would’ve remembered dancing with you,” he adds, eyes dark behind his mask. “That sort of thing leaves an impression.”

My heart thuds, sharp and unnatural. “You’re not making sense.”

“I never do, apparently. At least, not to anyone who doesn’t belong here.”

The air stills.

He knows.

He knows.

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Before I can speak, the music changes. The crowd begins to move in unison, pairs forming like clockwork.

Lucien extends a hand. “Dance with me.”

It’s not a request. It’s a command disguised as courtesy.

“I don’t dance,” I lie.

“Yes,” he says, stepping closer, “you do.”

I should refuse.

But I don’t.

Because part of me is drawn to this—this unraveling. This dangerous knowledge behind his eyes.

I place my hand in his.

His fingers close around mine—tight, possessive, almost desperate.

The moment we touch, the world feels too quiet.

We move across the floor like two flames circling, never quite touching, never quite parting.

His grip tightens around my waist.

“You don’t belong here,” he murmurs, so low only I can hear.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’ve seen this story play out,” he says. “Again. And again. And again.”

He twirls me, leans in close.

“But you… you’re new. And now it’s all wrong.”

I breathe too quickly. “What do you mean, again?”

He brushes his lips near my ear.

“I was supposed to fall in love with Aurelia. That was the script. The ending. The loop.”

His voice turns colder. “But the moment you walked in… everything collapsed.”

We stop moving.

I look up into his eyes and whisper, “How long have you known?”

Lucien removes his mask. Slowly. Eyes bare, expression unreadable.

“Long enough to know this story doesn’t end with her anymore.”

He lifts my hand to his lips—kisses my knuckles like a knight and a sinner all at once.

“This time,” he says, voice dark with intent, “it ends with you.”

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[Later That Night – Riven’s Chambers]

I stare at the wall long after I’ve returned.

Lucien remembers the story.

He’s lived it. Repeated it. Been trapped inside it.

And I?

I’m the glitch.

The wild card.

The one piece that doesn’t belong.

He called it his story.

And now?

He wants me to be the ending.

That should terrify me.

But what terrifies me more… is that I’m starting to wonder—

What if I want it too?

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To Be Continued...

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