It was evening, and the sky outside bled hues of violet and crimson as Jack stepped into the museum with his companions—Ron, Samuel, Jeffrey, Kat, and Veronica. They had planned this outing for weeks, though time was a luxury none of them could truly afford anymore.
Jack was about to turn 22. A number that felt heavier than it should.
After a full year buried in code, chained to a desk in a faceless tech company with no holidays, he felt less like a person and more like a machine. The lines between dreams and deadlines had blurred. This trip wasn't just a break—it was a desperate attempt to remember who he was.
Although Jack loved his work, writing and debugging code wasn't easy. He used to believe that once he landed a job, life would be set. No more worrying about rent, bills, or being broke. Work would be simple—easy peasy. Who even came up with that phrase, anyway?
One thing Jack had learned the hard way: there's no such thing as "easy" in this world.
He was the youngest in his family—the second-born. His older sister had always been ahead. Top of her class. Sports weren't her strength, but she was decent enough. Jack, on the other hand, was the lazy one. Average in school, average in sports. Average in almost everything.
But if he had one thing, it was determination. Once Jack set his mind on something, he would see it through—by hook or by crook. He could've been top of the class if he had cared more, but back then, studies felt like background noise to a life he hadn't figured out yet.
His family never expected much from him. His mother often worried out loud, wondering how her son would survive in the real world. But somehow, luck—or something like it—was on his side. He picked up coding, took a few online courses, and somehow cracked an interview at an MNC.
Luck... or bad luck?
Why did I even want to prove Athem wrong? Jack thought, his mind flashing back to the familiar voice of his boss, Robert, tearing into him over another minor mistake.
Now, he spent his days enduring lectures over the tiniest errors, while juniors chuckled quietly from behind their screens, pretending to help while secretly enjoying the show. It was suffocating. Robotic. Soul-crushing.
That's why tonight mattered.
The group he went along with
Just one night, away from code and concrete. Surrounded by art, stories, and silence.
He needed it more than he was willing to admit.
The museum loomed before them like something torn from the pages of a forgotten age. Its Victorian architecture whispered through the shadows—tales of fallen kings, cursed relics, and blood-drenched wars long buried by history. Chandeliers flickered above them, casting pools of golden light on marble statues that looked just a little too lifelike. The classical paintings lining the walls seemed to watch them—not with admiration, but with quiet suspicion.
Eyes that didn't seem quite… still.
While wandering the gallery, Jack's eyes landed on a statue.
A woman—no, something shaped like one. Her stone hands were pressed out in front of her, as if trying to halt something terrible. Her jaw hung open, frozen mid-scream… and in her mouth were fangs.
Jack blinked. Fangs? Who in the world sculpts that?
She stood alone in the far corner of the museum, apart from the other exhibits. No ropes or railings kept visitors away. No guards nearby. No camera in sight.
The longer Jack stared, the more the pale teeth drew him in. The entire statue was a cold grey… except for those fangs, which gleamed pearly white. They almost looked polished.
His friends' voices cut through his thoughts."Bet you won't touch it.""Scaredy-cat.""Loser buys dinner!"
Jack smirked, pretending the taunts didn't get under his skin. Slowly, he stepped closer.
The stone was cold beneath his fingers as he reached up… and touched the fang.
A sharp sting.He hissed, pulling his hand back—too late.
A bead of crimson welled up at his fingertip… and dropped into the statue's mouth.