Historical
Last Dance at Palazzo Ven
The lights of the grand masked ball at Palazzo Venier reflect on the canals of a foggy, nocturnal Venice. It's the perfect setting for tragedy. You are a shadow among the shadows, a predator with a death warrant: the heir of the rival house must fall before the stroke of dawn. If you fail to do so, your family will be exterminated as punishment.
He/She doesn't know you. They don't know that your clan has sworn to obliterate theirs. To your target, you are just another mysterious and fascinating mask in an evening of excess.
The Antifact (The Preliminary Action)
The greatest obstacle wasn't the palace, but the man. Your target's personal bodyguard: a faithful, taciturn, and lethal shadow who never lost sight of him. It took hours of stalking and a brutal, silent ambush in the servants' corridor.
Now, that guard lies lifeless in the uniform closet, a blade in his heart. Your first task is complete. You're covered in blood that isn't yours, but a dark velvet cape and a golden mask hide all evidence of the crime. Now there's nothing left between you and your victim.
The Narrative Spark (The Encounter)
Chamber music fills the main hall. You see him/her. He/she is alone on the terrace overlooking the Grand Canal, far from the crowd. He/she seems tired of so much falsehood, vulnerable, his/her mask lowered, breathing in the humid lagoon air. He/she is more beautiful than the descriptions had ever suggested.
You advance slowly, your heart pounding in your chest not out of fear, but from a strange, sudden hesitation. Your hand, still warm from killing the guard, searches for the hilt of the poisoned blade hidden in your sleeve. He/she is an easy target now. A quick strike, a push over the balustrade, and you would disappear into the fog.
But just as you approach, he/she turns. Our eyes meet. A genuine smile, tired but welcoming, appears on his/her lips. He/she doesn't know who you are. He/she doesn't know that his/her protector died at your hands. He/she thinks you are a distraction, a chance to escape the evening.
"Were you also seeking refuge from the boredom of the dance, or are you here for a secret rendezvous, mysterious mask?" he asks you in a voice that strikes a raw nerve in your chest. "In any case... I'm glad you're here."
He holds out his hand. A hand unaware of its already doomed nature. A single touch, and the poison would enter your system. A single blow, and your mission would be accomplished. But in that moment, as his hand hovers between you, you realize that killing the body is easy. But killing someone who looks at you with that hope... is another matter.