He lowered his head as a suffocating tightness gripped him up to his chin. A black oversized jacket, a vest, and a stiff-collared white shirt—he had no idea when he'd been changed into them—wrapped perfectly around his body. The silver chain brooch on his lapel dangled, reflecting the light from the cold marble floor. It was a perfectly tailored suit, one he had never worn before.

Shifting his gaze to his feet, he saw deep red petals, dark as blood, scattered across the marble floor. Suhyun was standing right in front of a grand staircase—on the altar deep within the wedding hall.

His head throbbed as if it were splitting. His last memory was of a perfectly ordinary day. On his way home as usual, he had simply closed and opened his eyes, only to find himself thrown into this unknown space.

As he looked up, his breath hitched. Beneath a high, white Gothic arched ceiling, red branches were tangled and blooming like grotesque, living veins of blood. Transparent glass sphere lights floating in the air between them emitted a strange, dreamlike glow, bathing the space in an eerie light.

The long candlesticks lit on every table and the deep red tablecloths proclaimed that this was no reality, but some holy yet cruel banquet.

Chills ran down his spine. The instinct to flee flashed through his mind, but Suhyun's feet remained frozen to the floor as if they had turned to stone.