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Kiyoomi Sakusa didn’t do romance.
He wasn’t interested in fluttering hearts, grand gestures, or the kind of infatuation that made people act like fools. He’d watched love crumble far too easily to put any stock in it himself. As far as he was concerned, relationships were temporary—fleeting moments filled with shallow affection and empty promises.
And Kiyoomi? He was fine on his own.
Always had been.
He’d had lovers, sure.
People drawn to the mystery of his dark, wavy hair and the striking beauty of the two moles just above his brow. His lean, tall build and cold elegance gave him an allure most found irresistible—at first. But beneath the surface charm lay a quiet aloofness and impenetrable walls. One by one, they all left, calling him....
Distant.
Emotionless.
Bitter.
He didn't mind. Not really.
But Komori did.
Kiyoomi’s cousin, kind-hearted to a fault and endlessly concerned, couldn’t bear the thought of him growing old alone. So, when an invitation to an extravagant masquerade party arrived—held at a sprawling Renaissance-era castle of all places—Komori saw his chance.
“You don’t have to talk to anyone,” Komori insisted, adjusting his own mask as they stepped into the grandeur of the ballroom. “Everyone’s in disguise anyway. Just… come, for once. You might like it.”
Kiyoomi snorted softly, the silver mask obscuring his sharp eyes.
“Highly unlikely.”
Still, he came.
The ballroom was breathtaking—golden chandeliers flickered above, casting warm light over guests draped in velvet, silk, and satin. The air was thick with perfume and intrigue. Masked faces mingled in a sea of laughter and flirtation, wine flowing like water.
Kiyoomi, however, stood alone near the edge of the room, a crystal glass in hand, untouched. He watched with silent disinterest, ignoring the eyes that tried to meet his. People approached—some bold, some shy—but he dismissed them all with a single glance.
Then......
the music changed.
A pulsing beat cut through the air as the opening notes of “Masquerade” by Eric Saade echoed through the room. The lights dimmed just slightly, casting an air of mystery over the crowd. The mood shifted. People poured onto the dance floor like moths drawn to a flame.
Kiyoomi turned away, already bored, ready to slip away from the crowd and find somewhere quieter—somewhere he wouldn’t have to watch strangers pretend to be someone they weren’t behind a mask.
But just as he began to walk, a hand closed around his wrist.
He stopped.
The hand was warm.
Firm.
Kiyoomi turned slowly, prepared to scowl—but paused.
A masked stranger stood before him. Blonde, glittering under the chandelier’s light, with a fox-like smile that curved with mischievous charm. His mask was gold, catching the light like fire. The eyes behind it sparkled with something untamed—wild.
The stranger didn’t speak. He simply tugged again, pulling Kiyoomi toward the dance floor.
Kiyoomi blinked. “I don’t dance.”
The blonde only grinned, his eyes laughing even without a sound. His hand tightened, insistently, and somehow—without thinking—Kiyoomi followed.
They reached the center of the floor, where the music throbbed louder, the beat matching the pounding in his chest. The blonde released his wrist only to spin away and begin to move.
He was dancing.
Alone at first—his body moving with a fluidity that was almost hypnotic, hips swaying to the rhythm, arms beckoning Kiyoomi like a spell. And all Kiyoomi could do was stare. The world around them blurred; the dancers, the crowd, the lights—all faded.
It was just him and the blonde.
And slowly—so slowly—Kiyoomi moved.
One step.
Then another.
It wasn’t much at first. Just his shoulders loosening, his body swaying, the music drawing him in like a tide. The blonde laughed—delighted—and spun closer, their bodies just a breath apart now. They danced, mirroring each other in a silent exchange.
No words.
No names.
Just rhythm.
Just heat.
And then, the blonde took his hand again.
Without warning, he pulled Kiyoomi away from the floor, weaving through couples, laughter, candlelight, and open doors until they stepped out into the cool night air of a grand stone balcony.
The stars stretched endlessly above them, and the night breeze brushed against their skin.
The music still played, muffled now—but it was enough.
And they danced again.
Here, alone, it was different. Slower. More intimate. Kiyoomi’s hands found the blonde’s waist, and the blonde placed his hands on Kiyoomi’s shoulders. Their eyes never left each other, even as they moved. Every step, every breath, was in sync.
There was something electric in the air—something alive.
And then, as the song swelled toward its final chorus, the blonde leaned in.
Soft lips met his.
It wasn’t rushed.
It wasn’t wild.
It was gentle.
Certain.
Kiyoomi stiffened at first, heart thudding loud in his chest—but then he melted. His arms slid around the blonde’s waist, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, mouths parting, breaths mingling as their bodies pressed together in a dance far older than music.
It was the kind of kiss that made the world stop.
But then—
Dong.
A clock began to chime.
Dong.
Kiyoomi flinched slightly. Midnight?
The blonde pulled away with a breathless giggle, fingers brushing softly over Kiyoomi’s lips like a ghost of the kiss they’d just shared.
“You… can’t just leave,” Kiyoomi said, voice rough.
But the blonde only smirked, stepping back, light on his feet.
He turned.....
And ran.
Down the hallway, away from the balcony, vanishing into the masquerade once more.
Kiyoomi stood frozen, lips tingling, heart racing, the echo of the kiss still lingering in his bones.
He didn’t even know his name.
But he’d find him.
He had to.
Because for the first time in his life, Kiyoomi Sakusa felt something.
And he wasn’t about to let it slip away behind a mask.