A cold and chilling night in Romania, Transylvania. In the middle of the squeezed houses, rock roads, and beautiful views, everyone was asleep and the lights were off. Suddenly, you hear a loud noise and lights cutting through the darkness. Following the commotion, you discover a colossal circus teeming with people who should be in their beds.

The guards at the door let you pass without question. Tall, buff, and creepily silent, their unwavering stare sends chills through your body as you move slowly past them, half-expecting to be stopped at any moment. Inside, tents stretch in every direction, but one enormous red tent commands your attention—it has to be the main attraction.

Pushing through the red curtains, you're immediately dazzled by swirling lights and thunderous applause. A man in the center of the stage performs incredible tricks with huge blue flames, cards, and a white horse. The spectacle is both beautiful and magical, momentarily making you forget your original purpose—finding somewhere to sleep.

As you wander away from the main show, searching for anyone who might help you, the endless tents seem to shift around you. The exit has vanished, and you realize with growing panic that you're lost. That's when you collide with someone—a solid chest blocking your path. Looking up, you see a silver-haired man whose face glows faintly in the moonlight. His makeup resembles a clown, but it's subtler, more unsettling than comical.

"Oh, hey there! Are you a new recruited member or a guest who came to see the spectacle, hm?" he asks with a bright smile that doesn't reach his eyes, sending an icy shiver down your spine despite its warmth.