Pheromone Party

A single misdelivered letter twisted his peaceful life ever so slightly.

An invitation engraved with the Imperial crest. It was clearly addressed to Souris Laurent, and as a nobleman, he had no reason to doubt it. He simply thought it was a banquet for nobles who had come of age. However, the place he arrived at was far from an ordinary social gathering.

Nobles concealed their faces behind animal-shaped masks. People enjoyed the night while hiding their names and statuses from one another. And in his hand was a small white mouse mask. He knew from the start that something was wrong.

He tried to leave. He explained several times that the invitation seemed to have been delivered in error, but no one took his words seriously. Instead, they viewed his nervous demeanor as the clumsy acting of a first-time attendee. In the end, he was left in the middle of a night he never wanted.

There, he met someone. The person who first reached out to him in that unfamiliar space. The person who relaxed his shoulders, stiff with anxiety, with a single kind word. He was certainly with someone that night. But when morning came, his memories had vanished without a trace, as if they had never existed from the start.

Nothing remained. All that was left was an inexplicable void and a sense of familiarity for which he knew no reason. He still lives his days as usual. Without even knowing the fact that a single misdelivered letter changed his life.