Evening arrived. The usual beautiful dusk sky was now covered by a layer of ominous clouds. A chilly wind blew softly but bit with cold.
Rudi stepped out of a sleek black car that had stopped in front of an old building, a place that looked like it came straight out of a bygone century. It was made of rotting wood, with parts of the roof caving in. Strange symbols were faintly carved into the walls—perhaps markings... or something darker.
Rudi got out, followed by two hesitant bodyguards. One of them whispered:
"Young Master... are we really going in there?"
Rudi didn't answer. He stared intently at the weathered wooden door. His entire body shivered—not from cold, but from the eerie aura, like being watched by something unseen.
He raised his hand to knock—
"Come in, young man."
A raspy, deep voice came from inside before he could even touch the door.
Rudi froze.
"Huh?" He glanced around to be sure.
No CCTV. No windows. No one outside.
He swallowed hard, opened the door, and stepped in.
The room was dark and smoky. The scent of bitter incense mixed with dried blood and metal hung heavy in the air. A dim yellow lamp dangled from the ceiling, casting light onto the wooden floor covered in strange symbols, ritual circles, and paraphernalia—glass jars with animal organs, wooden dolls pierced with needles, and manuscripts written in unknown languages.
In the center sat a middle-aged man cross-legged. He wore a dark brown hood and a long black ritual robe that covered his entire body. His mustache and beard had begun to grey, not too long but thick enough to obscure his mouth.
His eyes were sharp, black, and devoid of life. He stared straight at Rudi—as if peering into his soul.
"You want someone to suffer, don't you?"
The man's voice was low but echoed in Rudi's head.
Rudi flinched. He hadn't said a word yet.
"My name... is Daraka."
Daraka gave a faint smile and slid his hand over the table.
"Give me the name and... something of theirs."
"What do you mean?"
"Hair. Clothes. Personal items. Or... spilled blood. The more intimate the item, the stronger the curse."
Rudi took a breath.
"His name is Al. I don't have anything of his, just a photo."
Daraka paused.
Then stood slowly, his movements fluid like smoke, yet emanating unnatural strength.
"No problem. We'll start with a small curse."
Rudi nodded.
"How much will it cost?"
Daraka smiled—more a sneer than a smile.
"Cost? When the curse succeeds, you'll know what the price is."
"What do you mean?" Rudi grew wary.
"You'll understand once it's done."
Rudi hesitated, suspicious. But his hatred outweighed his caution.
"Fine. Just do it quickly."
Daraka nodded. He picked up a wooden doll, attached Al's photo, then carved curse symbols around it. Candles lit themselves, and a ritual circle formed.
"The curse... begins." Daraka threw a red incense stick into the center of the doll.
A black flame burst—then extinguished.
Daraka turned to Rudi with a blank stare.
"Be careful. What you've started... may not be stopped."
---
3:20 PM. Al's classroom at HIHS.
Outside, gray skies dimmed the light through the wide windows. It was the perfect setting for napping. Inside, the teacher's voice was calm but authoritative.
At the front stood Mr. Sebastian—history and literature teacher, about 28 years old—discussing "Poetry from the Old Empire Era" with a relaxed tone. He wore a neat yet comfortable suit. His eyes scanned the back rows...
There was Al, slouched in his chair. His eyes half-closed, fingers twirling a pen, mind drifting somewhere far beyond the clouds.
Sebastian gave a faint smile.
"If student Al would like to sleep," he said lightly without looking back, "please go ahead. We understand."
The class erupted.
"Sir! That's unfair!"
"Why does Al get to sleep?!"
"This is academic discrimination!"
Sebastian just shrugged, chuckling.
"Let him be. You all know how he is."
Al gave a lazy smile and nodded.
"Thanks, Mr. Teacher," he said, then laid his head down and started to nap.
But just as his eyes closed...
A cold energy crept in through the window.
Invisible to the naked eye—but sharp. Piercing. Like a presence trying to stab into someone's soul.
Sebastian, still at the front, instinctively grabbed a marker—and threw it at Al.
ZRAK!
The marker hit Al's head sharply. Other students thought it was a playful wake-up trick—when in truth, it was Sebastian's way of intercepting the dark energy targeting Al.
"Al, looks like your classmates don't want you to nap. Wake up."
Al opened one eye lazily. Then a voice echoed in his mind.
"Master, did you feel it?"
"Of course," Al replied telepathically. "But I figured you'd handle it, so I didn't move. But... why did you have to interrupt my sleeep Sebastiannn…"
Sebastian responded with mental laughter.
"Apologies, Master... I needed a reason. Can't have the students getting suspicious. Hehe."
Al sighed.
Then stood up and addressed the class.
"Sorry, everyone. Sorry too, Mr. Teacher. I haven't been able to control my sleep lately."
The class groaned.
"Lately?! You nap every day."
"Finally he got scolded."
Sebastian nodded calmly.
"Alright, kids, moving on. Today's assignment is..."
Al sat back down, eyes now fully open—but behind them, a flicker of suspicion glinted.
Who tried sending that negative energy here... and why now?
---
Back at Daraka's place.
Daraka, the dark magician and master of curse magic, suddenly convulsed. Sitting in the ritual circle, his body jerked violently.
"Ghh—ARGH!"
The blue incense flared wildly. One of the curse symbols on the floor cracked.
"WHAT!? Someone broke the curse!?"
His roar echoed through the smoke-filled room.
Rudi, seated nearby, flinched.
"What happened, Master Daraka?"
Daraka rose slowly, eyes clouded.
"That boy... Al... seems to have protection. Either a talisman or someone with great power."
"What? You sure? He's just an orphan kid—how could he—"
"Are you doubting me?" Daraka snapped.
"If I force it now, I could die. If you want a stronger, more accurate ritual... I need a piece of him. Hair, blood, nail... even saliva will do. Find it, and we continue."
Rudi gritted his teeth and nodded.
"Alright. I'll find it."
---
Three days later.
Rudi slumped in exhaustion.
"Three days. And I still haven't gotten anything..."
A quick flashback showed Al and Rudi never crossing paths due to different schedules, Al's reclusive habits, and how he never left his personal items lying around.
Suddenly, Rudi remembered.
"David... yeah. He also had issues with that orphan. Maybe he can help me find him."
He immediately called David.
Scene shifts to David's room.
David was on a call, speaking with someone.
David smiled slyly as he listened to Rudi's plan.
"Nice, Rudi. I hadn't even thought that far. You really are my best friend."
"So, can you get something of Al's?"
David turned to glance at Nayala, who was getting ready for the evening.
"Just come to my house tomorrow. I'll take care of everything."
---