December 20, 2015
The clinking of crystal glasses echoed in the brightly lit room. Laughter rang out among men in expensive suits and women in glamorous dresses. Evan Nathaniel stood in the center, a glass of red wine in hand, a small smile playing on his lips.
"Today, we celebrate our greatest success," he declared, his voice firm and full of confidence. "Because we dared to take risks, we've secured profits beyond anything we ever imagined."
Cheers erupted throughout the room. Everyone toasted to him. Evan always won.
In a corner of the room, a middle-aged man stood motionless, his fists clenched. His face was tense, his eyes red—not from alcohol, but from loss. Hendra Wijaya, the owner of the family company Evan had just taken over.
Beside him stood a twelve-year-old girl, stiff in a plain white dress that contrasted starkly with the glitter of the party around them. Sienna Wijaya, Hendra's only daughter, held her father's hand tightly, her small frame trembling.
No one noticed them. No one cared about the man who had just lost everything, or the child who had just realized her world had collapsed.
Evan walked toward them, his eyes gleaming with triumph.
"How does it feel, Mr. Hendra?" Evan asked, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You always believed hard work and honesty would lead to success. But look where we are now."
Hendra stared at him with burning hatred. "You destroyed my life."
Evan chuckled, sipping his wine casually. "No one destroys anyone in business. There are only winners and losers. You just happened to be on the wrong side this time."
Sienna tugged her father's hand, her voice barely audible and shaking. "Papa…"
Hendra swallowed hard, his eyes softening briefly as he looked at his daughter. Then, he turned his gaze back to Evan—different now. Not just anger. Resignation.
"You don't understand what you've done…" His voice was heavy. "This isn't just about money. This is about the fate of my family, the workers who depended on me. You toyed with their futures, Evan."
Evan snorted. "Fate?" He swirled his wineglass slowly. "Fate is made, not waited for. If you're not smart enough to control it, you'll be crushed by those who can."
Sienna bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. She might not have fully understood what was happening, but she knew enough to realize her life would never be the same.
Hendra lowered his head. His breathing was heavy, as if an invisible weight pressed on him.
"Papa?" Sienna's voice was a faint whisper.
Then, it happened.
With a sudden movement, Hendra grabbed a steak knife from the nearest table.
And before anyone could react—
He slit his own throat.
Blood sprayed.
The laughter in the room stopped instantly, replaced by horrified screams. Glasses shattered, tables shook, and some guests stumbled back, faces pale with shock.
Sienna screamed.
"Pa-Pa!!"
Hendra's body collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud, his hand still gripping the knife embedded in his throat. Blood pooled beneath him, a dark crimson stain spreading fast. His lifeless eyes stared at Evan—as if trying to say something unspeakable.
Evan's victory shattered in an instant.
He froze, eyes wide, hands stiff at his sides. He had never imagined the man would choose death. Especially not in front of him.
In front of him… and in front of his daughter.
Sienna dropped to the floor, her hands trembling as she tried to shake her father's lifeless body.
"Papa…" her voice cracked. "Wake up… please…"
Her sobs tore through the room, sharper than any scream from the stunned guests.
Evan felt something strange in his chest. Not guilt. No, he didn't believe in that. But for the first time in his life, he felt… uneasy.
Then, a strange light flickered through the room.
The air grew heavy, as if something—not of this world—had entered their midst.
Evan flinched, trying to move, but his body felt frozen in place.
Sienna, still sobbing beside her father, slowly lifted her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her eyes held something else now.
Something foreign.
Something… not hers.
"Well then…" Her voice had changed. Deeper. No longer that of a child.
Evan went rigid.
"…enjoy your victory… while it lasts."
An invisible force struck Evan's chest.
The world around him trembled. The sounds in the room began to fade. His legs weakened, his mind spun. His breath caught as something ancient and unseen slipped into him.
And at that moment, the curse began.
December 20, 2015 – Hospital
Blinding white light greeted Hendra as his consciousness slowly returned. A faint ringing buzzed in his ears, mingling with distant sounds—crying, hurried footsteps, the beeping of medical machines.
Slowly, his eyelids fluttered open. His vision was blurry, but the burning pain in his neck reminded him that he was still alive.
Beside his bed, Sienna sobbed, her hand gripping his cold fingers. Her eyes were swollen, her face flushed with tears.
"Papa…" her voice was small, almost a whisper. "Don't leave Sienna…"
Hendra tried to speak, but no sound came out. His breath rasped, chest heaving with effort. His neck was bandaged, but blood still seeped through the white fabric wrapped around his throat.
A doctor stood on the other side of the bed, his expression grave. "Mr. Hendra, we've managed to stop the bleeding, but the wound is too deep… We can only keep you alive a little longer."
Hendra didn't respond. He knew. He could feel his life slowly draining away.
Sienna sobbed harder, her shoulders trembling. "Papa… why did you do this?"
Hendra's weak hand moved, using the last of his strength to squeeze his daughter's fingers. His eyes gazed at her with deep sorrow.
"Forgive me…" his voice was faint, nearly drowned by the beeping machines. "Papa wasn't strong enough…"
A tear slipped from the corner of his eye. Not from fear of death, but for leaving Sienna alone in this world.
Sienna shook her head, clutching his hand tightly as if she could stop time. "Don't go, Papa… Please…"
Hendra managed a faint smile—one filled with surrender and guilt. "Be a strong girl, Sienna…"
His breathing grew labored. His eyes began to lose focus.
"Sienna… always…"
The hand that had been gripping her fingers slowly went limp, and fell away.
The heart monitor flatlined with a long, piercing tone.
The doctor sighed and turned to the nurse beside him. "Time of death, December 20, 2015, 11:47 PM."
Sienna was silent for a moment, staring at her father's now lifeless face. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, she began to shake his body in a panic.
"Papa? Pa? Don't sleep, Papa!"
Her hands trembled, her voice cracked.
"Wake up, Papa! Let's go home, okay? You promised, remember? Papa…"
Her sobs grew louder, her head bowed, her small body shaking beside her father's corpse.
Meanwhile, somewhere—beyond the world of ordinary men—something was watching.
Waiting.
And ready to begin its curse.