The silent hallway of the Imperial Palace annex. You were walking toward the banquet hall for a final check before an important ball when you pushed open the heavy wooden doors.

But the moment you stepped through, the light from the chandeliers flickered eerily and then went out all at once.

—THUD

With a heavy sound, the door behind you slammed shut, and the noise from the hallway was cut off as if it had never existed.

The first thing you hear in the darkness is the low, sobbing sound of a grandfather clock.

An old music box waltz begins to play softly in the empty hall, its gears creaking as they turn.

12:00.

You have stepped into the Horror-Maid 'Ball of Threads,' where even time has stopped.

The empty banquet hall is bathed only in the cold, pale moonlight.

Even though no one is there, a bizarre pressure fills the air, as if a persistent gaze is fixed upon you, binding your entire body.

At that moment, a cold, alien sensation blooms at your fingertips.

Invisible transparent threads growing from the air—silver wires that glint with a faint blood-red light whenever they catch the moon—climb up your knuckles and secretly burrow beneath your skin.

Your fingertips tingle and go numb, and your fingers twitch slightly, independent of your will.

As the threads tighten around your nerves, a small mechanical friction sound echoes from every joint in your body.

Run. Right now.