The three of them had now entered the old house. The entire place was shrouded in darkness, with almost no light coming in from outside. Dust coated every surface. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and lizards darted across the walls.
The ground floor was completely empty—just one large room, and a creaky wooden staircase leading upward.
The walls were painted a faded white, and a photograph hung crookedly on one of them. It showed a man and his two children. The photo was worn with age—its corners torn, and a thin crack ran across the glass frame.
As soon as Roshit looked at it, a strange sense of unease crept in. "How can someone live that long?" he muttered.
"It might be possible," Varun replied. "Back in the day, people did live longer lives. Maybe he's one of them."
Ayaan spoke quietly. "Actually… this man's been here for almost one hundred fifty years. He's sort of a legend around this area. People say, whoever sees him… their day turns bad.
That's why the organization wants to study him. They think his hair can reveal something about his health—or his DNA."
Roshit's expression changed slightly. "Oh. So… will we have to collect blood too?"
"Not now. Just a hair sample. But if they want more testing later… they might send us again."
"Hmm. Got it." Roshit nodded slowly, though a subtle fear had already settled inside him.
Then… a faint whisper echoed through the room.
All three of them fell silent.
Varun turned to Ayaan and whispered, "Did you hear that?"
Ayaan nodded.
A musty, damp scent drifted down from the stairs above—a mix of old clothes and rotting wood, clinging to the air like something long dead.
"Man, this place feels really weird," Ayaan muttered. "Let's just finish the job and get out of here."
"You guys decide whatever," Roshit said. "But I'm not leaving without getting paid."
Without waiting, he stepped forward.
The floor beneath him let out a faint groan, like an ancient door slowly creaking open.
The three looked at each other, then slowly moved toward the staircase.
As they began to climb, the wooden steps groaned beneath their weight. With every footstep, the creaking seemed to echo deeper—like the house itself remembered something.
Their steps echoed through the silence, reaching into corners they couldn't see…
…as though someone—or something—was listening.
As soon as they reached the second floor, a strange chill filled the air. A stretch of bare, dusty floor lay ahead—beyond it, a single room. The room had no door, and the darkness within stirred a quiet, crawling restlessness in them.
"Man, this place feels really off," Roshit whispered. "What do we do now?"
"It's the only room left," Varun replied. "He must be inside."
The three stepped in cautiously, their movements light and measured. With every step, the wooden floor creaked—creeak… creeak…
Ayaan took the lead. Varun switched on his flashlight, slowly sweeping it across the shadows. The beam of light landed inside the room—and the moment it did, all three of them froze.
An old mat lay on the floor. And on it… someone was lying still, his back to them. Long, white hair spread across the mat like dry silk. His body lay in an eerie stillness—the kind that doesn't belong to the living.
"This is him," Varun whispered.
"Yeah…" Ayaan murmured, his voice trembling slightly.
"Should we wake him?" Roshit asked.
Varun instantly clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shhh… keep your voice down!"
After a tense pause, he whispered, "Let's just cut a strand of his hair and get out of here."
"Ayaan, got scissors?"
Ayaan shook his head and pulled a small knife from his pocket. "No scissors… but this'll work."
"Then hurry."
Ayaan stepped forward, each movement careful. His heartbeat was pounding. The floor beneath him moaned with every step. Reaching the old man, Ayaan held his breath and crouched. He moved the blade forward…
And then…
The old man stirred.
Ayaan froze, paralyzed. His throat went dry. Sweat trickled down his back.
Behind him, Roshit and Varun also stopped moving.
The old man shifted slightly and a deep, creeping fear seeped into the room.
Then, stillness.
Ayaan exhaled slowly. His hands trembled. He reached forward again.
Snip. A single white hair lay in his palm. He stood up and stepped back.
Behind him, Varun and Roshit exchanged glances. They clenched their fists and lifted them into the air with a soft, whispered "Yesss!"
Ayaan turned to smile—
But the moment he saw the color drain from their faces…
That smile vanished.
A strange chill slid across his spine. His hands dried instantly, and a prickling sensation crawled over his neck.
"What are they seeing?" he wondered.
He stood frozen, as if the room had fallen into a void. Slowly, his shoulders tensed.
And then… a sound.
A slow inhale—not angry, not loud… but heavy. Unnatural.
Ayaan turned his neck… inch by inch… And there, lying on the mat…
The old man was awake.
His long, white hair fell over his shoulders. Half of his face was hidden in the shadow of the walls, but his eyes—those deep eyes—they looked like an ocean without a bottom. There was something in them… something that couldn't be understood.
"Wh… who are you?" The voice was so calm, so soft, it didn't even feel like it came from someone who had lived for one hundred fifty years.
Ayaan's throat went dry. His mind went blank for a moment.
"Umm… u-uncle, so… sorry! We… uh… we just came to meet you," Ayaan stammered.
"To meet me?" The old man didn't even move from his spot—just leaned forward slightly. His eyes, however, remained locked—unblinking and unwavering.
"Uh… we're from the Trinity Foundation," Ayaan managed to steady his voice with effort. "We were… we were sent to collect a strand of your hair… so that… so that they can check your health…"
He stayed silent for a moment. Then, in a slow, calm voice, he said, "I don't understand… first tell me this… how did the three of you even find me?"
Ayaan paused for a moment, thinking that telling the truth might be the best choice. "The company… they gave us the location," he replied.
"Company?" the old man slowly tilted his head from side to side, his voice low and puzzled, as if trying to recall a name long forgotten.
"Oh… so they have that much power… enough to find me?"
His words… the way he said them… there was something strange about it. As if all of this was an old story to him—one that had happened many times before.
Varun and Roshit were silent. Completely silent. The old man's lips curled into a strange, unsettling smile.
"Alright, tell me..." he said, "Which one of you three cut my hair?"
Ayaan's heart started pounding in his chest. Varun and Roshit turned to look at him. For a moment, there was complete silence—no one said a word.
Ayaan slowly took a step back. Then he lowered his gaze. His hands were still drenched in sweat.
"I… I was the one who cut it," he said softly.
The old man stayed silent for a moment. "What's your name?" he asked.
"Ayaan," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness.
"Ah…" the old man slowly straightened his back. One of his hands remained behind him, as if he had not a single worry in the world.
"Nice name," he said. Then... he took a step forward from where he was.
Ayaan's mind screamed: GET BACK! STAY AWAY! But his feet were frozen in place.
The old man came right up close to Ayaan—so close that Ayaan could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin.
And then, very softly, with a faint smile, he whispered near Ayaan's ear— "The way you took my hair without asking…"
For a moment, silence took over everything.
"Ayaan... Just like that, I will take three precious things from you."
In that very moment, the air turned cold.
Ayaan's mind screamed. Every nerve, every muscle in his body shouted just one thing—"RUN!"
"Roshit! Varun! RUN FROM HERE! NOW!!" Ayaan shouted. His voice echoed sharply through the room like a loud blast.
Without a moment's thought, Ayaan turns around and starts running. A terrifying sensation crawls up his back—like someone is still watching him.
Roshit and Varun froze for a moment, but as soon as their minds processed Ayaan's scream, both of them bolted instantly.
That old man's eyes were still fixed on them.
And his smile had grown even deeper.
The three of them ran towards the gate. Roshit anxiously pulled at it with all his strength, his hands slipping with sweat. The gate didn't budge an inch.
"Why isn't this opening?" There was panic in Roshit's voice.
"Move aside!" Varun shouted, not wasting a second as he pulled out his gun. His finger trembled on the trigger. With a loud bang, the bullet struck the gate. But the gate seemed to mock the shot—not even a scratch appeared.
Varun stared at the gate, then at his own hands. His fingers still rested on the trigger, but it felt like all strength had drained from his body. "I-impossible..." he whispered. There was no strength left in his legs.
"W-What do we do now?" Roshit's throat was dry as dust. "H-he's going to kill us!"
Just then, a terrifying, deep voice echoed from above— "Not all three… only you two shall be sacrificed. My Ayaan will remain safe."
All three of their bodies froze at once. Slowly, they lifted their eyes upward. The old man was descending the stairs—surrounded by a thick, dark smoke.
His skin began to tear open, as if a new form was clawing its way out from within. Thick, wet black hair sprouted along his arms and legs.
His fingers thinned and sharpened—nails now gleaming like celestial blades. His mouth split slowly, grotesquely, revealing long, razor-sharp fangs. The glow of his red eyes pierced through the darkness, making even the shadows tremble in fear.
All three of them stood frozen, their feet rooted to the ground like ancient trees.
The air had turned dense—oppressive—as if death itself was walking in with him.
Then… the wolf-like creature leapt in a single bound—and came crashing down on Varun.
Varun couldn't even scream. With a sharp, cracking sound, the beast's fangs tore through the soft skin of his throat. Warm, fresh blood sprayed into the air—and within a second, the ground was soaked in red.
"NOOO!" Roshit's scream was so piercing, it cut through the silence like a blade. Without thinking, he tried to shove the beast away—
but with a single jerk, it leapt into the air like a shadow unchained.
Ayaan's mind went blank for a moment—then instinct took over. He whipped out his gun and fired a shot without hesitation.
"Bang!!" A straight shot. The bullet struck the wolf in the chest. But… as soon as the blood started to spill, its wounds began to heal instantly.
The wolf turned its red eyes towards Ayaan. Its mouth was now filled with blood, and with a strange, cruel smile, it said—"What are you doing? I'm doing all this for you."
Tears started to fall from Ayaan's eyes. If he could, he would stop time right there. But time doesn't stop for anyone.
The wolf leaned forward, tearing into Varun's body with its sharp teeth. The sound of flesh tearing, the crack of bones breaking... everything was so real that Ayaan's breath stopped.
In a corner, Roshit sat, hunched with his head buried in his knees, utterly defeated. His breaths were so rapid, it felt as though someone was choking him.
Ayaan approached him and grabbed his hand. "Roshit! Don't sit here, quickly, get out of here!"
Roshit pushed Ayaan's hand away. There was more anger in his eyes than tears. "THIS IS ALL BECAUSE OF YOU!"
Ayaan took a step back. "H-huh?"
"You were the one who got us into this company! And now, because of you, we're trapped in this deadly situation!"
"No, Roshit! Please, don't say that!"
"SHOULD I NOT SAY IT? YOU'RE THE ONE WHO BROUGHT US HERE!"
Ayaan was about to say something, but Roshit's words silenced him.
"I don't know what that man whispered in your ear. But now I'm sure you're with him. Ayaan, you're a demon. God will never forgive you. Never!" Roshit's words struck deep, and Ayaan's heart felt like it had collapsed. Tears streamed down his face, but even they couldn't hide the weight of his guilt.
"Roshit... why are you saying this?" His voice cracked, as if with every word, his breath was shattering too. "Please, just run away from here."
"Don't cry, Ayaan!" A terrifying, deep growl tore through the air. "HIS LIFE ENDS HERE. AND YOURS BEGINS NOW!" The wolf took a step forward. Its claws left a small crack on the ground. The light from its red eyes fell upon Roshit's lifeless face.
Ayaan's legs were trembling, but his heart swallowed the fear. Just a moment. It was a decision that would be made in a single instant.
He took a deep breath, gathering all his strength, and stood face to face with the wolf.
"Don't you dare lay a finger on him!" He shouts.
The wolf let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "YOU'RE REALLY A FOOL, AYAAN!"
And in the next instant...
"Boom!" The werewolf's hand struck like lightning, and Ayaan was sent flying through the air.
Before hitting the ground, the wall was already waiting for him.
"CRACK!!" Ayaan's head slammed against the wall. A deep gash appeared on his forehead, and a stream of hot, fresh blood trickled down. The red line flowed above his eyes, and the world slowly began to fade behind a crimson veil.
Pain was a spark that had spread through every vein, igniting an unbearable fire within.
But... it didn't matter to him.
A soft sound escaped Ayaan's lips, but his eyes kept searching for the wolf.
Then he saw—the wolf slowly advancing towards Roshit.
"Stop! Please... leave him!" Ayaan's throat was dry, but he swallowed the pain and screamed.
But... the wolf didn't respond.
He simply raised his long, sharp claws...
And for a moment, the world fell silent.
Ayaan tried to lift his hands, but there was no strength left in them. His body was slowly turning cold, as if life was slipping away from him. Blood dripped from his fingers, hitting the ground with a soft tap, tap, tap.
He saw the wolf pounce on Roshit, and one final scream echoed through the air.
Ayaan's eyelids grew heavy. His world slowly sank into darkness and then...
he lost consciousness.