At first, the man didn't look.He didn't want to.
But then he followed his son's finger.
She was there.
Standing at the far end of the street like a shadow given form—silent, still, watching.
Her eyes glowed like cold embers in the fog. Her black gothic dress fluttered in the wind that wasn't blowing. Her boots clicked softly against the pavement as she took a single step forward.
The man's heart stopped.
He knew her. Everyone did. Not truly, but enough to fear her.
The cursed girl. The beauty men whispered about. The danger no one dared approach.
He fell to his knees. His drunken haze vanished in an instant. He was awake now—completely.
The boy clung to his sleeve, eyes wide with pure, childlike terror.
And then—without warning—A massive shadow ripped through the street like a gust of wind.
It didn't touch the man. It didn't touch the boy.
It hit her.
She fell.
A thick black smoke exploded across the street, swallowing everything in its path.
Silence. Just smoke. And then-nothing.
When the fog finally cleared, the girl was gone.
The street was empty again.
The man didn't wait to question it. He scooped his son into his arms and ran.
Ran like death itself was at his heels.
That night was the worst he'd ever known.
He burst through the door of his home, clutching his son like a lifeline. His wife was in the kitchen, mid-turn, a worried look frozen on her face.
Before she could speak, he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, holding her like she was the last good thing in the world.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, over and over, his voice raw with fear and guilt. "I'm sorry. I was stupid. I didn't think—I didn't feel—I don't deserve you."
His son stood silently behind him, eyes wide and still shaken.
She didn't say anything at first. She just stood there, her hands trembling as they hovered above his head—then slowly, she placed them on his shoulders. Not with rage. Not with judgment.
With warmth.
She didn't ask what happened. Maybe she didn't need to. Maybe she already knew.
And in that moment, something in him broke. Or maybe something was fixed.
For the first time in years, he saw her—not as the routine, not as the background of his life—but as the only person who had ever stayed. The only one who ever truly cared. Not like his boss. Not like the others.
He had gone looking for thrill, for power, for something to numb the emptiness.
But in the end… he had run from death, and found something far more terrifying.
Love.
Real, quiet, patient love.
That night, while the streets outside whispered the girl's name and the smoke of cursed shadows still clung to the air, the man made a promise.
To change.To be better.To live—not just survive.
Maybe he didn't deserve forgiveness. But he would try to earn it, one honest breath at a time.
The girl went nowhere that man or map could find. She was taken by the creature of shadows.
It looked like a dragon, but it was no ordinary beast. It wasn't made of scale or bone—it was made of dust and dread, like ash given life. Its form shifted with the wind, never fully visible, only felt in the air like death breathing down your neck.
This was no accident.
The creature was not wild. It was a pet—the devoted hound of the Monster King, ruler of a forgotten world hidden far beyond the city and deeper than any village dared to dream of.
That place?
It wasn't on any map.
It existed only in whispers—a world of monsters, cloaked in fog and fear. They said no one who ventured close ever returned. No proof. Just rumors that left cold silence in their wake.
And now, the cursed girl… was gone.
Where did she go?
Some said a god took her—to protect humanity from her wrath.Others feared something worse—that her disappearance was only the beginning.That another monster might come.That the curse had been transferred.That she would return... not as a girl, but as something far more dangerous.
The man who had witnessed it told everything to his wife. The smoke, the silence, the dragon-like shadow. Soon, the story spread like wildfire. Curiosity turned to obsession. Fear turned to prayers.
And yet—only one truth was known:
The dragon took her.
☠️ Four Days Before…
She wasn't always haunting the streets.
She lived on the edge of the village, by the river, deep in a cave no one remembered being there before. Some believed she carved it from the earth herself, using powers no one dared to name. The water ran dark there—never still, always whispering.
She had a pet.
A cursed creature bound to her soul.It wasn't like her—silent, eerie, and bound by a human form.No. The pet could shift—into animals, into wind, even into human beings.
And worse…
It needed to feed.
Not on fruit. Not on meat.On pure human flesh.
Cursed, twisted, and disguised, it would roam the streets under a stolen face—smiling, talking, walking among the villagers—and picking its next prey.
And her?
She ate like a human. She didn't kill. She didn't feed.But she never asked questions.She let the creature bring her meals, and when she sat down to eat, it looked like any normal dinner… except something always smelled too raw.
She called it companion, not pet.They shared more than a bond.They shared a curse.
And somewhere deep in the shadows of that cave…They shared a secret no one had ever uncovered.