Two days later, my girlfriend and I went to the temple.
After everything that had happened recently, I thought maybe a quiet visit and a prayer could help ease the tension between us—or at least calm the unease that had been shadowing our days. On the drive there, I tried to lighten the mood, cracking jokes, bringing up old memories. For a while, it worked. She laughed, even teased me back, and the car filled with the warmth we used to have.
But the moment we reached the temple gates, something in her changed. Her smile faded. Her face tightened, her eyes turned sharp. She stared up at the temple sign and asked coldly,
"Why did you bring me here?"
Before I could answer, she snapped—her voice rising like a sudden storm. She cursed at me, then at my entire family, the words vicious and unnatural, as if they were spoken by someone else. My stomach turned cold. It was happening again—the same darkness the master had warned us about.
"Please, calm down. Let's just go inside and pray," I said softly, trying to steady my voice.
But she spun around and bolted toward the car. My heart jumped into my throat. I knew too well what could happen if she got behind the wheel in that state.
My car uses a phone Bluetooth key—once my phone gets within a few meters, the doors unlock automatically. As I sprinted after her, I heard the familiar beep—the car had already unlocked. She yanked the door open and slid into the driver's seat. Her hands shook on the steering wheel, her voice rough and furious, spewing curses that didn't sound like her at all. She fumbled for the start button, desperate to start the engine.
I disconnected the Bluetooth connection in a panic. The car stayed silent even as she stomped hard on the gas pedal. I lunged forward, wrapped my arms around her, afraid of what she might do next.
Then, all at once, her body went limp.
She fainted in my arms.
Ten seconds later, she opened her eyes. Her breathing steadied. She blinked in confusion.
"What's wrong? Weren't we going to pray?" she asked softly, as if nothing had happened.
Her tone was calm again, gentle—too gentle. My hands trembled slightly as I forced a smile.
"Yeah… let's go," I said, my voice hollow.
We stepped out of the car and walked toward the temple again. My mind was a blur of disbelief and dread. Just as we reached the entrance, she stopped and looked up.
"There's a purple mist floating above us," she murmured.
I looked too, but saw nothing—just the dull gray sky hanging over the temple roof. My pulse quickened. My palms were damp. "Come on," I whispered, leading her inside.
We lit incense and knelt before the altar. The air smelled of sandalwood and lilies, thick with the calm hum of silence. She pressed her palms together and closed her eyes, her face softening into serenity. For a brief moment, I dared to believe everything was finally over.
Then my phone buzzed. It was her mother.
Her voice trembled through the line: "Was she violent just now? Were her eyes wide, veins bulging?"
I looked at my girlfriend, still kneeling peacefully in front of the altar. My throat went dry.
"Yes," I whispered. "Just now… she was."
Her mother sighed deeply. "It matches perfectly. The purple aura has returned. The spirit's taken her again. I told you not to go to the temple—it stirs the thing inside her."
I froze, clutching the phone, a chill running down my spine. Her words weren't surprised—they were resigned, as if she already knew this would happen.
I ended the call and looked back at my girlfriend. She was praying quietly, her face tranquil and distant, like a candle flame wavering in the wind.
A tangle of emotions rose in my chest—fear, confusion, guilt, and a deep helplessness I couldn't name. If my ex-wife truly was behind this, what could I do? Should I reach out to her, beg her to stop? After all, we still share a child. What purpose could she have for doing something so cruel?
Once, I was a strict materialist. I believed in logic, in science, in things that could be measured and explained. But these past weeks… the strange voices, the sudden rages, the eerie coincidences—
they were pushing me to the edge of belief.
As I watched the smoke rise before the temple altar, curling toward the ceiling like fading souls, a thought took hold in my mind:
perhaps the world really does hide forces beyond reason—
and some of them were now looking straight at us.
I pressed my palms together and whispered a prayer—not sure anymore who I was praying to, or if anyone was listening at all.