A Beauty With Multiple Masks Novels & Stories

Each one gleamed with a terrifying demonic air. Colin's fingers brushed over those instruments. His expression wasn't like he was looking at instruments of torture. But rather like he was in an art gallery in Paris. And those instruments that hung on the wall were not for torturing but exquisite works of art. Finally, his gaze stopped at an iron mask. "This one will do!" Colin took the iron mask and said with pleasure, "This is my most satisfying work. I've given it a charming name, the Beauty Mask. Wear it and you'll become the most beautiful woman in the world."

It was a treasure trove of possibilities, promising to transform us into our most radiant selves. Bea’s expertise as she guided me through the application of makeup was both impressive and reassuring. Her gentle touch and attention to detail made me feel like a canvas waiting to be transformed into a masterpiece. As I caught glimpses of myself in the mirror, I was awestruck by the transformation taking place. It was as if a hidden beauty had been awakened, and I couldn’t help but be grateful for Bea’s unwavering support.

*"See how ugly you are. Everybody else has flawless, pale skin, but you? You look like a pig’s ass. A child of a demon." Her chest tightened as she reached for the foundation. The bronzed liquid spread across her skin, each stroke of the brush another layer of armor. Once the mask was complete, she added eyeliner to frame her now-muted eyes and swept a soft pink over her lips. Every action was precise, yet devoid of feeling. “Not perfect,” she murmured, staring at her reflection with a mix of resignation and defiance. “But at least I look normal.”

This time, Hera couldn't stop staring at herself. Look, Jessy has successfully transformed her into someone incredibly beautiful. She couldn't even recognize herself. "Wow, your hands are amazing. I still can't believe this is me," Hera said, turning to Jessy. "That's too much. The point is, you're still beautiful, whether you wear makeup or not. You look beautiful either way," Jessy replied as she handed Hera a black mask. Hera looked at the black mask and turned her gaze to Jessy, "So, we have to wear these masks?"

To only move up those thin fingers, to hold the mask and take it off. A smooth face comes in vision.No way like the rugged face that everyone presumed. A small button nose, thin lips and big doe like eyes. That have seen too much to remain innocent and alive. The person looked beautiful. With face flawless and untouched. Except for that Scar. That runs down from the corner of her eye to half of her cheek. A reminder of struggles and survival. A token of her undefeated will. Her. Yes, that was her true self which no one knows and nor could they even guess.

Utterly beautiful. The added contrast of the silver against my amber eyes finalised its beauty, as if day and night had come together, or better yet, both sides of the moon were finally revealed. Both the light and dark sides come together to embrace the beauty on both sides, and both are needed for the other to survive. Draped in shadows and silver, this mask was meant for the elegant dance of hidden intentions beneath the grandeur of the masquerade.

Getting out, Belial helps her out, once against his hand, wrapping her arm around his as they walk through. Stopping at the door, he holds out the mask. “For you Anais.” Her eyes take it in. It is beautiful, clearly meant to be a kitten mask, but somehow it looks elegant. “Thank you.” She smiles at him, watching as he puts on his own mask. “You deserve to stand out, Anais, not blend in with the others. Now you do.” Kissing her cheek, they walk into the room. Anais walks around talking to everyone, smiling as she does with Belial by her side, acting like the perfect gentleman, which she finds unnerving for some reason.

She directly took off her mask and asked again, "Look at me again. Do you really not know me?" As the mask was pulled off, Yang Xiao carefully looked at the peerless beauty in front of him. She was a beautiful woman with shoulder-length short hair and a heroic figure. Her beautiful eyes were as bright as autumn water, her nose was tall and straight, and her lips were moist. She was covered with a faint pink lipstick. At first glance, her face looked like the perfect Japanese movie star with some plastic surgery. But if you looked closely, you could feel the heroic spirit in his bones, which was many times stronger than those ordinary stars.

She says looking at the masks and picking a few up. She’s so sweet, I wonder where she gets her charm from? “Ooo what about these?” she picks up couples masks and I can’t help but giggle at the thought ‘couple’ is that what Troy and I are? “They are pretty cute and will match my dress perfectly.” The ‘women’s’ one is a black lace mask with purple glitter etched around the eyes and what kind of looks like crescent moons, and the ‘males’ one is a simple design, black with the same purple glitter around the eyes and crescent moons. Perfect.

Then came the sound of heels clicking against the floor. Looking up toward the staircase, everyone saw a woman in a striking red body hug gown descending. Emily Havard was beautiful, no doubt about it. She moved with confidence, a practiced catwalk that turned heads. But she wasn’t Alexander’s type. Even he didn’t fully know what his type was. He felt nothing as she approached the table. She reminded him of all the women from his past, manipulative, wearing fake smiles, proud, and easy to see through. Yet something else entirely caught Alexander’s sharp attention.