Shuishan_1214
Following the wounded figure as he fled, he stopped before a door.
He pushed it open.
What met his eyes were countless masks made of human skin.
The old candy seller from the street this morning,
the opera beauty once adored by all,
the cunning merchant, rich beyond measure.
Some faces he had seen before. Others were strangers...
A sly face,
a seductive one,
a kindly one,
a ferocious one.
One person, yet a thousand faces.
He parted the hanging cloth and brushed past them, one by one.
The skin was so lifelike, as if it had truly been cut from a living face.
His hand stopped at an owl mask.
A faint warmth seeped from beneath it.
Found you, Mr. Thief.
To be sure, he pulled down the beaked visor from his own face.
In the heavy stench of dust, there was a trace of blood.
He drew the curved blade from his back, already stained red, and aimed it at the mask before him...