Leaves rarely fall alone; in this way, we are not so different from them.


    Asher Moretti had recently completed his studies at Hearth University and secured a prestigious research fellowship—a position he obtained largely due to his connections. He was ecstatic about this opportunity, particularly since he owed much of his success to his relationship with Professor Gilbert Hofsberg. What had initially begun as a standard student-teacher dynamic had evolved over the past four years, culminating in this exciting new chapter of Asher’s career.


    To help Asher expand his professional network, Professor Hofsberg had invited him to an elegant ball. The venue was neither pretentious nor overly extravagant; the ballroom was tastefully decorated, creating an inviting atmosphere. A grand piano in the main leisure area provided a soft, melodic background, fostering a relaxed yet refined environment. Above the dance floor, the balconies of the second floor offered couples a more private space to enjoy the evening and each other’s company.


    “Good evening, sir. Would you like a drink?” A waiter appeared beside him, drawing Asher’s attention away from the enchanting music of the piano.


    “Champagne, please. Thank you,” Asher replied with a polite nod, grateful for the offer.


    The waiter smiled warmly and presented a tray laden with an assortment of hors d''oeuvres. Asher glanced at the bite-sized snacks, but they were unfamiliar to him. One in particular caught his eye—a gelatin creation shaped to resemble a human eye, complete with a carved olive at its center. Another featured a thin slice of meat, blood-red, wrapped around a piece of cheese.


    ?????? ???????? ?????? ?????? ?????? ???????? ???????? ???? ?????? ??????????, Asher muttered, waving the tray away. He couldn''t imagine eating something that looked like that.


    As the waiter moved on to attend to other guests, Asher noticed that the tray was completely empty by the time he returned to the bar.


    ???????????? ???????????????? ?????? ??????????? ??????????????, he said to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.


    “Ah, our youngest colleague! Good evening, Asher,” came a familiar voice, cutting through his thoughts.


    Asher turned to see Professor Hofsberg approaching with a broad grin. “The ball has certainly become more enjoyable now,” Hofsberg remarked, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.


    Asher chuckled. “Professor, I didn’t expect to see you at an event like this. Are you being blackmailed? Because if so, I can throw a decent punch when needed!”


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The professor, though in his 50s, radiated youthful energy and charisma. His grey hair was the only sign of his age, while his eyes sparkled with life and enthusiasm.


    “Shh! They’ll hear you, you fool,” Hofsberg said, laughing heartily. “No, it’s much worse than blackmail—it’s funding. You’ll understand one day when you become a professor. Nothing terrifies us more than that word. You’ll find yourself at events like this, pretending to care about conversations just to secure the next grant. Earlier, we had a poker game in the history department, and I drew the short straw. Sadly, bluffing has never been my strength.”


    Asher laughed along with him, grateful for the professor’s easygoing nature. “I see. Well, I truly appreciate the invitation. It’s rare that I get to indulge in something this lavish, especially given my current financial situation.”


    He grimaced for a moment, then added, “Speaking of funding, is there anyone here I should be networking with?”


    Hofsberg waved a hand dismissively, his expression relaxed. “Leave that to me. Let the old guard handle the hard part. Just keep an eye out for eligible bachelorettes for me, will you? It’s hard being so handsome, clever, and successful—sometimes I wonder if I intimidate them.”


    “Haha, will do, Professor. I’ll be sure to put in a good word for you. But for now, I need to visit the washroom.”


    Asher smiled as he walked away, grateful for the professor’s support. Hofsberg had been a lifeline when Asher first arrived at university, just out of the orphanage. Though he had been too proud to accept help at first, Hofsberg’s persistent kindness had eventually won him over. The man had even snuck food out of the faculty cafeteria for Asher during his leanest times, filling a role that was almost fatherly. It had been a long time since Asher had felt that kind of support.


    When Asher finally made it to the washroom, he joined the line and waited patiently until a stall became available. Stepping inside, he unbuckled his belt, only to notice that the toilet was clogged.


    ??????????. ???? ???????????? ?????? ???????? ?????? ???? ????????, he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. ???????????? ?????? ?????????? ???? ???????? ????????.


    He considered getting back in line but realized he’d be there all night. The other stall was still occupied, and whoever was in it hadn’t made a sound. ??????????????.


    Resigning himself to the situation, Asher grabbed a nearby plunger and tackled the clog with determination. After a few minutes of grunting and elbow grease, the blockage cleared. But just as he reached to flush, he froze. In the bowl, tangled among the debris, was a disturbing bundle of human hair. There were fingernails, and if he wasn’t mistaken—teeth.


    ??-??-???????? ?????? ????????? Asher stumbled back, his heart racing in his chest.


    He glanced again, but now all he saw was a soggy mass of toilet paper, a relief that was only temporary.


    ??’???? ???????????? ?????? ???? ???????? ?????????????? ???? ?????? ?????????? ??????????????, he muttered, shaken by the unexpected sight. ??’?? ???????????? ????????????.


    After finishing his business and washing his hands, Asher returned to the ballroom. To his surprise, the line outside had shortened—oddly, only nine people remained, down from the fifteen that had been there before. ?????? ???????? ?????????? ?????????????? ??????????????? And the man in the stall next to him… hadn’t made a single noise the whole time.


    Shrugging it off, Asher decided not to dwell on it. He had enough on his mind already. As he stepped back into the main hall, he noticed that the music had changed. The piano that had once provided a light, pleasant melody now played a somber, oppressive tune.