In the best rouge shop in the capital, the newly arrived lipstick is in short supply.
But the noble girl who used it first was found dead in her boudoir the next day.
The second oiran used also died suddenly on the third day.
And I am the third person to use lip balm.
Late at night, blood words appeared on my bronze mirror: "Run away, you will be next."
Trembling, I dug out the lipstick, only to find a piece of human skin with a mole hidden inside.
The position of the mole was exactly the same as that of the dead courtesan.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door, and the maid's voice sounded: "Miss, are you asleep?"
I stared at the shadow under the crack of the door - that was not my maid at all.
Because my maid died three days ago.
