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Nothing was keeping Stelle at this ball. Not the fancy little desserts that her pouch was now stuffed full of nor the exquisite trash cans made of gold that made her eyes water upon seeing their beauty. She tugged at the corset that March had stuffed her in. It was silver like spilt moonlight connecting to a full skirt that shimmered like stars whenever she moved.
Her friends had dispersed as soon as they arrived. March went to the dance floor, being swept away by the guests who all wanted a chance to spend even a second with her. Dan Heng melted into the shadows, somehow finding a spot away from lingering eyes. That left Stelle alone, where she grabbed champagne flute after flute, swallowing the contents until the room swayed.
She’d never been to a ball before; at least, she didn’t think she had. There were times when dreams swirled with reality, mixing together until she couldn’t tell what was fiction or truth. March and Dan Heng found her passed out along the town’s perimeter, covered in blood and barely alive. They took her in, saving her life. Yet when they asked how she ended up in that predicament, Stelle could only reply with silence.
Her mind was a forest covered in fog and darkness. No matter where she turned for answers, none came. She was lost, unable to navigate the rough terrain of her memories. A month had come and gone since then. Stelle was no closer to finding the answers.
It hasn't helped that town folks have been disappearing with no trace. Some returned with no memory of their time gone, while others were never to be seen again. A dark atmosphere settled around the town, making people nervous to stroll outside. Hushed whispers of a monster who fed on the weak started to spread, the story growing more and more preposterous with each breath.
Then, the announcement came that a masquerade ball would be held at the end of the month. Excitement with a sprinkle of caution soon took over. People put away their worries to prepare. The town square became lively again, with people filling the streets. The false illusion spread over the still-disappearing people.
It was March’s idea to attend the ball. A pick-me-up, she had called it excitedly. Stelle didn’t have it in herself to say no. She let March drag her around town, picking out the finest silks for their dresses and allowing layers of makeup to be applied to her face. After all, it was March’s job as a dressmaker to create beautiful clothes as it was Stelle’s to model them.
Many of March’s designs were fluttering across the ballroom that night. It made Stelle’s chest warm with pride. Every design was gorgeous. The ball was on every citizen’s mind. The last one was held over ten years ago. The people were getting antsy to get dolled up and spend the night dancing. It would also answer questions that many had on their mind. Why was a ball being held after so long? And who exactly lived at the Stellaron?
The Stellaron, the lavish mansion outside of town, was run by a mysterious mistress who rarely showed her face. Lady Kafka was a name on the tip of everyone’s tongue. A beauty, which many whispered was runaway royalty. Others suspected it was magic, purely an illusion to keep her name flowing across the town. March thought it was a hoax and that Lady Kafka was nothing more than a rumour—once a beauty who grew old and now was too afraid to show her face.
Stelle wasn’t sure which theory she believed. The name…Kafka… seemed so familiar. Yet, as Stelle looked around the ballroom that was nothing but mirrored walls, she faltered. Everyone’s faces were covered with elegant masks, and dresses spun as the music played loudly. Colours lit the ballroom up, a rainbow of fabrics. Did this place have the answers she was looking for?
Stelle staggered backward, hitting something solid. Perhaps she had one too many champagne flutes. She turned, apology already on her lips but the words immediately died. Hair as deep as wine pulled back into a simple pony with the sides hanging loose around her face. Eyes, even when covered by the black mask, as crimson as a blood moon shined brighter than any star in the sky. The woman wore a deep purple jacket with gold trim over top of a white blouse tucked into black pants.
She was beautiful.
“My, I didn’t see you there,” the woman said, her voice deep and sultry.
Stelle bowed, her insides on fire. “Apologies, Madame. I was being careless.” Her voice slightly shook as she spoke.
Stelle wasn’t one to get nervous. Usually, she was able to speak her mind as she pleased. She wanted to blame it on the woman’s beauty, but deep-down fear burned through her. She needed to run. To grab hold of Dan Heng and March and pull them from this ballroom.
The woman laughed. “You’re perfectly fine.” She eyed Stelle curiously, her red lips curving into a smile. “Perhaps we shall meet again later tonight. Would you like that?”
No!
“Yes.”
“Good girl,” the woman drawled, reaching out to let her fingers dance across the exposed skin on Stelle’s neck. Her fingers were cold, making Stelle gasp at their touch.
Her mind whirled as glimpses of a past she couldn’t remember flickered through. Red . All Stelle saw was red as the sound of violins played, and pain spread across her neck. She pulled away, staring at the long nails that could easily draw blood with a simple push. Questions were piling on her lips, ready to spill.
The woman only smirked before she disappeared into the crowds of people, leaving Stelle with her mouth agape and her heart pounding in her chest.
“Where have you been?” March asked Stelle, finally escaping the clutches of the townspeople for a breather. Her pink hair was still in perfect condition, curls bouncing freely as she moved. There wasn’t even a hint of sweat on her perfectly done face. Her dress was something out of a fairy tale. Pink and puffy that shimmered blue whenever she moved.
Sometimes Stelle wondered if March was a doll brought to life.
“I was getting to know my future partner,” Stelle deadpanned, pointing at the trash can she stood next to. “Will you be my maid of honour at our wedding?”
March gave her an incredulous look before she sighed. “Only if Dan Heng is the ring bearer.”
“No thanks,” Dan Heng said, appearing suddenly beside March. “You haven’t seen how she acts around that thing.”
“That thing is soon to be my spouse,” Stelle argued, patting the lid of the trash can fondly.
“Maybe you should try interacting with living, breathing people?” March suggested. “Besides, there are so many people here. Maybe someone will recognize you!”
Stelle’s mind returned to that mysterious woman. The more she thought about her, the more familiar she seemed, as if she had stepped right out of Stelle’s dreams. Stelle scanned the room, eyes opened for that violet jacket or wine-coloured hair, but there was nothing—not a single trace that the woman was real. Had she just been a figment of Stelle’s imagination?
No, her touch still lingered on Stelle’s skin—a ghost that would haunt her forever. And her memories that threatened to break through the fog, those were real.
“People say Lady Kafka is among the crowd,” March said, her eyes shining with excitement. “Never did I imagine we’d be allowed inside the Stellaron, but now to have a chance to get a glimpse of the lady!”
“No one will be able to tell who she is when we’re wearing these masks,” Dan Heng replied.
March gasped. “Do you think that means I potentially danced with her? Oh, how wonderful that would be!”
Dan Heng rolled his eyes. “I still find it strange. No word from Lady Kafka in years, then all of a sudden, she’s hosting a ball? Something is off.”
“Well, has hiding in the shadows like a creature of the night unraveled anything?” March asked.
Dan Heng shook his head. “There’s this guy who keeps following me. It’s unnerving. I spent most of my time avoiding his gaze.”
“Dan Heng! You have an admirer!” March squealed. “Quick! Point him out!”
Their voices dulled as Stelle finally caught sight of the woman from earlier. She was across the room, standing next to a tall man with dark black hair and pale skin. They were locked in a deep discussion, their bodies angled close to one another as they fired off words.
She was real! After all, Stelle did have an undisclosed number of drinks. She wouldn’t completely fault herself if she conjured up such a beautiful woman. If anything, she deserved a pat on the back for such a creative imagination had the woman been an illusion!
As if her thoughts were being echoed across the room, the pair stopped their conversation, their heads snapping up to stare at Stelle. A shiver ran through her body. Those eyes, there was a certain hunger behind them. Hunger that was locked onto Stelle—making her their next prey.
“He’s looking at you!” March said, playfully hitting Dan Heng’s shoulder.
Dan Heng was silent as he followed the pair’s gazes. “Stelle, do…you know them?”
“I—" Stelle stared at the pair, an uncomfortable feeling growing in her stomach. “My instincts tell me to run, but I’m also drawn towards them.” What she didn’t mention was how it was only the woman who had the effect on her.
The man was quick to swoop next to a couple, hooking his arm around the man’s elbow. He slid into their conversation effortlessly, leading the couple away from the ballroom. Stelle returned her gaze to the woman, who was still staring at her intently. When their eyes met, the woman smirked, winking at Stelle.
“You should keep your distance,” Dan Heng advised his eyes on the door where the mysterious man and the couple left from.
He was correct. Stelle should stay far away. The magnetic pull suggested otherwise. It twisted inside her, begging her to move closer, tempting her. How much longer would she be able to resist? She was nothing but a moth drawn towards the flame of its death.
Were her memories worth the risk? She found a new place with people she cared about. There was no reason to put herself in harm's way to seek out a past that no longer existed. She should drop it and move on. She should…
But she couldn’t.
That woman had the answers. Stelle knew it.
“Wait! Where are you going?” March asked, her eyes widening as Stelle started walking away.
“I need to know,” Stelle replied. She wasn’t one to shy away from danger. She wouldn’t run—not this time.
She left her friends, pushing through the crowds of people. The mask over her face blocked some of her vision, hindering her sight. As people moved in front of her, the woman disappeared. Stelle turned in a circle until she spotted that wine-coloured hair waltzing through the vibrant fabrics of the crowd. Stelle grumbled. Were they playing a game of cat and mouse?
Instead of following behind, Stelle moved around, circling the ballroom until she came face to face with the woman.
“You’re much slower than I thought,” the woman said with a laugh.
“Your feet are quite nimble…Lady…”
“Kafka.”
Lady Kafka.
The elusive lady of the house. Was this once a place Stelle frequented? Or even lived? The stone walls, the elegant wallpapers, and even the haunting glow of the candles all flickered in her mind as memories fluttered by. The metallic smell of blood filled her nostrils as the ghost of scarlet-painted lips pressed against her collarbone.
Stelle bowed, the same burning sensation building in her chest again. Firm fingers hooked underneath her chin, forcing her to look up into Lady Kafka’s eyes. Her body relaxed as if trained to do so by a single touch. Kafka smiled as she assessed Stelle.
“I’m feeling generous tonight. Let us dance. I will lead since those feet of yours will surely stumble over one another.”
Stelle nodded, feeling herself being pulled to the dance floor. With her hand in Lady Kafka’s and the other on her shoulder, they fell into position. The velvet fabric of Lady Kafka’s jacket was soft against the pads of Stelle’s fingers. She spread her fingers, trying to feel across the entire fabric. Lady Kafka only looked amused.
When the accordion started playing the next song, Lady Kafka began to move. They flew over the polished flooring, their heels clicking with every step. Lady Kafka led with a firm hand, making sure Stelle could easily follow her. They weaved in and out of the other dancers, making it known that they were the main attraction. The skirt of Stelle’s dress twirled, a sea of stars twinkling across the ballroom as they danced.
Stelle’s chest was tight, coiled around fantasy and reality. Lady Kafka gazed at her as if waiting for her to open her mouth first, daring her to ask.
“I don’t have all night,” she finally said, twirling Stelle.
“You know me,” Stelle replied.
“The you of the past I knew quite well. The you now? You are but a stranger to me.”
The words stung. Why did they hurt? Stelle pinched back the tears that welled in her eyes. It was nothing but the truth, yet she wanted to disagree.
“Who was I before?”
Perhaps Lady Kafka was displaying pity towards Stelle. Her lips twisted upwards like she expected the question. “Do you truly wish to know?”
“Yes,” breathed Stelle.
“I knew you’d come back to me,” Lady Kafka said, bringing her hand up to wipe away a lone tear that ran down Stelle’s cheek. She brought it to her lips, her tongue darting out to lick the tear away. “This was once your home, but you decided to leave.”
“I don’t understand.”
Lady Kafka sighed. “I’m trying to be considerate. This is hard for me as well.”
Something was missing. A piece that Stelle still didn’t have hold of. Yet a cloud moved, clearing one mystery.
“You held this ball for me, didn’t you?”
Red eyes glowed as Lady Kafka laughed. “You always were clever. I’ve never been one to go without the theatrics of it all.”
She spun Stelle again—the room shifting as memories flooded back.
“What’s the town like?” Stelle asked, staring out the window. She sat on the edge of a grand bed, the sheets thrown in every direction.
“Please, darling, shut that. You know how the sun prickles my skin,” Kafka replied, pulling the fabric of her silky robe over her pale body. “Besides, it’s nothing of interest.”
“Sorry,” Stelle mumbled, pushing shut the curtains, yet her mind was still stuck on the world beyond. All she heard were the stories brought back to her. It’d been so long since she last stepped outside. She rubbed her neck.
Sensing her displeasure, Kafka shifted, wrapping her arms around Stelle’s shoulders. Her chest pressed against Stelle’s back as her hot breath danced across Stelle’s neck. “Compared to the life you live here, nothing out there will entice you.”
“You only say that because I taste the best,” Stelle grumbled.
“And it’s the truth.” Kafka licked a stripe up Stelle’s neck before she pressed a kiss against her skin. “You’re my favourite.”
Until you find someone to replace me, Stelle thought bitterly. It was never supposed to last. They were from different worlds.
“My offer still stands. Elio adores you. He would allow you to join us permanently,” Kafka continued.
Stelle shook her head. “That’s not for me.” Her eyes flickered back to the closed window. Her life was beyond the Stellaron. Her time at the estate would always be a part of her, but it wouldn’t define her.
She knew it would hurt—being away from Kafka. They’ve grown close, more so than Stelle imagined they would. In fact, it would likely crush her soul. It would be a wound so deep that she would never truly heal from it—always at risk of opening up and bleeding her dry.
Kafka slouched, knowing Stelle wasn’t changing her mind. “Once you leave, you will never be able to return. I’ll become a ghost in your memories who’ll haunt you until the day you are lowered in your grave.”
“I look forward to it. If I forget, you can break my heart all over again.”
The upward curve of Kafka’s smile pressed against Stelle’s tingling skin. “I’ll break your heart as many times as I please.”
The pain that spread throughout Stelle’s body was welcomed as her eyes fluttered shut. This would be the last time, and then she would leave while the manor was asleep. What she wasn’t expecting was Kafka waiting for her at the main doors—a bored look on her face as she twirled a dagger.
One blink. It was one single blink, and her vision shifted, the world painted red.
“I tried to leave,” Stelle said, her memories slowly returning to her. “You didn’t want me to go.”
Kafka shrugged. “I only tried some gentle persuasion.”
“When I was found, I was on death’s doorstep.”
“Did Death answer? I find him to be quite unreliable.” Stelle glared at Kafka. “I wasn’t going to let you die. I was on my way to find you, but by then, those two humans had already taken you in.”
Stelle was dipped low enough that the ends of her hair swept across the floor. She stared up at Kafka, a face that was once her entire world. It was her decision to leave. There was a reason she wanted to leave. But…what was the reason? There was one last puzzle piece before the whole picture came to life.
They passed by the wall of mirrors, Stelle taking a glance at them when she stopped dead in her tracks. Kafka followed her gaze to their reflection in the mirror—no, that wasn’t correct. It was Stelle’s reflection because Kafka was nowhere in sight.
Stelle looked back at Kafka, shocked. She watched as Kafka turned her head back slowly, her smile widening to show off the sharp canine teeth that stuck out. Her tongue playfully dragged across her teeth, accentuating her point.
Let me turn you. Then we can be together until the fires of Hell burn us along with this godforsaken earth.
Lightning. A storm. Stelle remembered being eighteen and her carriage breaking during a storm. She stumbled upon the Stellaron, looking for shelter. Kafka had answered the door with a smile and a gleam in her eyes. As Stelle was invited inside, it would be the last time she would breathe the outside air for many, many years.
A volunteer. That’s what she was called. Stelle was lucky, unlike the others who had their blood sucked dry. Kafka enjoyed her presence, keeping her around as her personal blood bank. Stelle wasn’t only used as a source of food. Kafka found out very quickly that Stelle had other uses. And everything was perfect—until it wasn’t. It was perfect until one day, Stelle longed for the world outside, a world she couldn’t return to unless she gave up Kafka.
“You were always my favourite,” Kafka sighed.
“You would have lost interest the second I became like you.”
Stelle thought of Blade and Silver Wolf, both pets that Kafka took in before she became disinterested in them. Blade was loyal, slowly finding his own path, but Silver Wolf had never quite forgiven Kafka for what became of her. They somehow found their own places in their new lives, but Stelle couldn’t live with herself if that happened to her. She knew once Kafka found a shiny new toy, she would be discarded—then what would she have?
Nothing.
“Is it the life you always wanted?” Kafka asked, her fingers trailing across Stelle’s exposed back. Goosebumps appeared where her fingers touched.
“Any life without you won’t be perfect. But I couldn’t stay here forever.”
Kafka stared at Stelle, her eyes wide. Kafka didn’t beg. The words, please stay, would never pass by her lips. Her knees would remain clean, never allowing the dirt on the ground to sully them.
“You’ll forget again,” was all she said. “As soon as you leave the manor, I’ll disappear again.”
Kafka was the public head of the Stellaron, but the true leader was Elio. Someone much more ancient and much more powerful than Kafka. When the Stellaron was built, Elio placed a spell over the property that if humans who learned the secret of the manor were to leave, their memories would be erased.
Stelle knew her returned memories would disappear as soon as she stepped outside. Her time with Kafka would vanish as it had once before. Only if she stayed would they remain.
The song had reached its climax. Their time together was dwindling, soon to draw its final conclusion. Stelle would leave the manor, leaving her memories behind. Kafka would allow her to leave. She’d lost once, and that failure weighed on her shoulders. She would never repeat a mistake unless she was certain of her own victory.
A second goodbye. One Stelle didn’t want to have but knew she had to go through with. She would be fine. Kafka would become a ghost once again, haunting her memories while she didn’t know any better.
Stelle pulled Kafka close, a brief moment of adrenaline running through her veins. She tilted her head up, her lips brushing against Kafka’s. She tasted the blood on those painted lips and the memories of their time together—passion-filled and timeless. Kafka was quick to take control, greatly amused by Stelle’s forwardness. Her hand wrapped around the back of Stelle’s head, pulling her close.
“If you stay here any longer, I’ll suck you dry,” Kafka breathed against Stelle’s lips. She pulled Stelle’s bottom lip into her mouth, pricking it so the smallest drop of blood beaded on the skin before she licked it clean.
“Don’t forget your promise to me,” Stelle said, her voice strained.
Kafka only laughed. “I will never forget.”
Stelle pulled back, her body screaming for her to stay. There was no room for her at the Stellaron. She needed to be out in the world and explore all that it had to offer. Yet it didn’t stop the heartbreak from growing across her chest with its sharp thorns that cut her whenever she breathed.
The music had stopped. Their time was up.
“Thank you for the dance, Lady Kafka,” Stelle said, bowing deeply.
Kafka didn’t say anything in return. Her eyes turned elsewhere, perhaps already looking for Blade.
Warmth danced over Stelle’s cheeks as she stood quickly, turning her back to Kafka. She spotted March and Dan Heng easily, making her way over to them. Hooking her elbow through March’s, Stelle beamed up at them.
“I think it’s time for us to go, don’t you think?”
“Please,” Dan Heng begged.
“He’s just upset because I made him dance with me! It was only one time!” March said with an eye roll. “Besides, who was that woman you were dancing with? Did you get your answers?”
“She's just an old friend.” Stelle shrugged, guiding her friends to the door. "And yes, I did."
She allowed March to go off on a tangent about a man who kept stepping on her toes while dancing. The noise was easy to filter out as they exited the manor. As Stelle took her first step outside, she turned, confusion on her face.
“What’s wrong?” March asked.
“I’m…not sure. This place feels…familiar,” Stelle remarked. “Like it was once my home.” Her heart ached as if she was leaving something important behind. What it was, she couldn't remember. It didn't stop her from feeling an immense loss.
The others were silent as they waited. Stelle couldn’t come to a conclusion, so she dropped the topic, turning her back on the manor one last time as the three of them made their way back home.
The chime of the door knew someone was coming before the door even opened. Perhaps it was being considerate to give Stelle extra time to process the change in her life. Perhaps it knew who was coming and was properly announcing her arrival.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Stelle looked up from the book she was aimlessly flipping through. March was in the back, helping a customer with a fitting and instructed Stelle to watch the storefront.
“How can I help—” she started, her voice faltering.
A black umbrella moved to the side, revealing a beautiful woman with wine-coloured hair. She gave Stelle a sly grin. “Hello, I was looking to be fitted for a new outfit. Could you help me?”