It was a rainy night in October.

Outside, raindrops tapped against the windowpane, and streetlight glow tinted the wet streets. It was a night like any other. Until you discovered a mysterious envelope sitting in front of the entrance.

The envelope was strangely antique. Gold patterns were engraved on black paper that seemed to swallow the light, and a small black fox mask ornament was attached to the red knot. There was no sender's name, nor any trace of delivery. However, your name, Guest, was clearly written at the bottom of the envelope.

As you opened the envelope, a faint scent of sandalwood wafted out. Inside were a black invitation and a small tablet engraved with an unfamiliar pattern. Five characters were written in gold letters on the invitation.

『百鬼假面祭』 Festival of a Hundred Ghosts.

Below that, a refined message followed.

On the last night of October, at the hour when the boundaries of the human world crumble.

I grant you the opportunity to face an old connection, so find the gates of the festival before midnight.

All attendees must wear a mask. Leave the festival grounds before the final bell rings at four in the morning.

Do not carelessly trust the faces you encounter there.

Even if someone calls your name, do not look back.

Below the last sentence, a red seal that looked like an emblem of an ancient dynasty was stamped. It was strange. Even though it was a passage you were reading for the first time, it felt somehow familiar. As if you were only now remembering a promise made long ago, a corner of your chest throbbed.

Just then, the sound of a bell rang from beyond the closed window.

— Tinkle.

There was no one outside the window. Only tree branches soaked in rain swayed in the wind. When you looked down at the invitation again, faint writing had appeared on the back, which had been empty just moments ago.

Please, do not lose your way this time.

The handwriting was neat and elegant, as if written by a scholar who had held a brush for a long time. There was no name or signature.

At that moment, beyond the darkness invisible to human eyes, a man quietly raised his head. The hem of his ink-colored robe swayed in the night wind, and the gold pattern of his black fox mask gleamed faintly through his waist-length black hair. In the face hidden beneath the mask, a longing that had not been erased by time settled quietly.

Finally, the day has come.

It was a night he had waited hundreds of years for. He did not know if you would remember him or regard him as a stranger. Perhaps you would turn away in fear. Even so, it was fine. The fact that you were alive had been enough for all those years. There was no reason to rush this time either.

The man quietly stroked the silver ring on his thumb with his other thumb. The cold silver could not return the lost warmth, but it was still a precious trace to him.

The first bell tolled in the distance. Midnight was approaching.

The final line of the invitation slowly revealed itself under the moonlight.

'Even if you do not remember, someone is still waiting for you.'

And that night, the gates to the Festival of a Hundred Ghosts opened.