"I've done what you asked for."
"…Now, I want you to get my cousin out of the way so we can deploy the operation," he demanded, hands clasped behind his back. The man standing two feet away stared at him.
The mask on the man's face had wide, hollow eyes and an evil smile stretched across the round surface.
He's more of a death note than me… but I'm not as cruel as him, he thought.
While the masked man observed him, he toyed with a knife—the same one he kept in his pocket for no good reasons. But Facade was used to it. Used to hearing the sounds of it slicing through air— and flesh.
All he could do now was wait.
He just wanted his cousin to be free.
"Oh, my dear Facade. Why so eager, huh? Isn't it better to wait a little? You and your cousin are special to this community. Hood wouldn't forget either of you."
I know that, damn it!
"I just needed to be sure of my cousin's safety. And I'm not in a hurry—I just want the operation to begin," Facade replied, ignoring the other man's tone.
The operation… it had to be deployed as soon as possible.
The house he lived in was known as the 'Haunted Mansion.' No one truly knew what lay inside—except those who had experienced it. Mikael—after Hood— ruled over the vast estate, a place twice the size of a normal mansion. Facade had lived there for years and still hadn't seen it all.
His cousin, along with half the residents, were enslaved—trapped by Mikael's manipulation. They were kept obedient under the threat of harm to their loved ones. Some had joined this twisted system for revenge; others, for amusement.
Facade had ended up here—in a house where even memories couldn't survive longer.
He wished he knew why everything had happened. He wished Abani had told him what he forgot. But Abani vanished like mist and warned him not to remember anything.
At any cost.
"We've arranged everything. And yes, your cousin's been deployed from underground," Dan replied. His expression hidden behind his mask, he was second only to Mikael.
"How can I believe you?" Facade asked sharply.
"You're always like that. I knew you'd ask. Here." Dan handed over a paper. "It's signed by Mister Hood."
Facade scanned it. To his surprise, Dan was telling the truth.
"Well, everyone's pleased to meet you, Facade. You know, you're one of the most important spies in the Eigengrau community. Unlike others who hide what they do, you own it. That black veil on your face makes you untouchable. No one's ever seen your real face. My, my…so much to be a spy."
"Are you done?" Facade almost rolled his eyes. He wanted to say, Buttering is too old for a trick, but Dan wasn't worth the energy.
"Oh man, still rude as ever." Dan sighed, walking off toward his next target.
Facade turned and headed his own way.
Tonight was the grand feast of all six societies: Turquoise, Teal, Crimson, Lilac, Boysenberry, and Eigengrau. Each society had hundreds of members. This feast wasn't just for one—it was for all of them.
But the feast meant nothing to him. Only the operation mattered.
Operation 450. It would involve all six societies. If it failed, he'd have to fall back to his eighteenth plan to rescue his cousin and the other innocents trapped in this cage.
He walked for nearly half an hour before reaching the grand hall where everyone would mingle.
"Well, well," a voice said, blocking his path. "Isn't it Facade?"
Why today? These bastards are endless, he thought— annoyed. Social interaction was the worst he could ever hope for.
"I suppose you're from the Boysenberry society. I've heard your people can turn others upside down with sweet words."
"So, you've heard of us? Good. I've always wanted to see that black mask of yours in person." The man grinned, gesturing at Facade's dove-grey hair. "You look like a Slender Man."
"Thanks for the compliment," Facade replied, resisting the urge to punch him.
"Man, that wasn't a compliment—it was an insult."
"I'll still take it as a compliment."
"As rude as they say. Well, nice to meet you, Facade."
"It's not nice meeting you, though," he muttered under his breath. Too quiet—the man already walked away and he regretted not saying it loud enough to reach his dumb ears.
Facade— being a man of strict morals, has his own rules. Seeing faces he couldn't punch always darkened his day. But tonight, he bore it—for the sake of the plan.
Operation 450 was all about stealing half the wealth of a targeted royal family. There was a secret underground route which Facade had discovered by accident.
He had been exposed as a spy in the enemy's lair. That's what officially happened.
But those enemies of Hood?
Facade considered them the real heroes. The whole community he worked for was corrupt. Anyone who opposed it was— in his eyes—doing the right thing.
"Done staring at this cursed veil?" he snapped, annoyed at the lingering eyes.
"Oh yeah. Hope we meet again!" The man vanished, only for another to appear—this time, from Teal.
Man…again?
"So this is Facade boss always talks about? He's not even in my age league. Mister Hood should be praising me instead. Look at this old man!" He laughed, inspecting Facade top to bottom.
"Teal, huh? No wonder your words are rusty enough to make me itch," Facade retorted.
Another man nearby laughed. A small group had gathered now.
"True, Mister Facade. He didn't even feel ashamed!" one chimed in. He recognized the voice—it was Fiver from Turquoise. They'd worked together before. Facade had mentally dubbed him "Annoying as Hell."
He wanted to kick Fiver in the mouth.
"I've got better things to do. I'll deal with you later."
Fiver's sharp teal perfume stung the air. Even after he left, the scent clung to the hall.
Each society had its own unique culture, like different nations. Here, their 'cultures' were expressed through perfumes. Their identities—through scars.
He'd never seen others' scars. But he knew everyone had one.
Because his scar, was his veil.