Ahsan sat silently in class, staring blankly at the chalkboard while the teacher's voice blurred into meaningless sound. From today onward, he would officially work under AZ as his assistant. It wasn't a choice he'd made willingly — but deep down, he knew it was the only way.
If anyone could save him from the curse festering inside his leg, it was AZ.
Beside him, Ornob leaned closer. "Hey, man... You okay? You look kinda off."
Ahsan blinked, snapping out of his daze. "Huh? What do you mean?"
Ornob frowned, studying him. "Dude, you look thin. Like—really thin. You were never fat —this? It's like you've been starving yourself. And that happened in what, five days?"
Ahsan's heart skipped. Five days. Could the curse be spreading that fast?
He forced a chuckle. "You're overreacting. I'm fine. Probably just lost a kilo or two from... I don't know, working out or something."
Ornob sighed and leaned back. "If you say so. Just take care of yourself, alright? You don't look like yourself lately."
Ahsan nodded absently, but his mind was racing. Thin in five days... He tried to laugh it off, but unease coiled in his gut, cold and heavy.
As the class dragged on, Ornob kept glancing at his friend from the corner of his eye. He tried to shake off the thought, but something about Ahsan felt different — off in a way he couldn't explain.
Neither of them noticed it yet, but something inside Ahsan was changing.
Slowly. Quietly.
After class, Ahsan walked into the washroom. The echo of dripping water filled the tiled room, cold and hollow.
He turned on the tap and splashed his face, hoping the shock would bring him back to life.
But when he looked up, the reflection staring back barely looked human.
Ornob had been right. His face had thinned out sharply, his eyes sunken and sleepless. His skin was pale — not the healthy kind, but a dull, grayish shade. And among his dark hair, a few strands of white gleamed under the fluorescent light.
Ahsan leaned closer, his breath trembling against the glass. "What's happening to me...?"
A calm voice answered from behind him.
"Your demonic limb is draining your nutrients."
Ahsan spun around, heart racing.
"AZ?!"
AZ stood at the sink, calmly washing his hands as if he'd been there all along.
"I came to help you," he said.
He reached into his coat pocket and tossed a small cloth pouch toward Ahsan. Inside were green, bead-like pills that shimmered faintly.
Ahsan held one up, confused. "What are these?"
"Medicine," AZ said. "They'll slow down the limb's influence. But you'll need to eat more—much more—to keep your strength. The limb feeds on your life force and nutrients. If you don't replenish them, you'll collapse within days."
Ahsan frowned. "How much more are we talking?"
"Just eat your fill," AZ replied, drying his hands with a paper towel. "But be warned—your appetite will increase, slowly at first. For now, two bowls of rice might be enough. But soon..."
He looked Ahsan straight in the eye.
"Even ten plates won't satisfy you."
Ahsan's breath hitched. "T-ten plates?"
AZ nodded. "The more the limb grows, the hungrier it becomes. The hunger of a demon is endless. And right now—" he gestured at Ahsan's leg, "—it's feeding through you."
The tap kept dripping.
Each drop echoed in the silence like a heartbeat.
Ahsan frowned. "So, you came all the way here just to tell me that? I was going to visit your office anyway. Why bother coming here?"
AZ shook his head. "I didn't come here just for you," he said calmly. "I came for someone else."
Ahsan raised a brow. "Someone else? Who are you talking about?"
AZ nodded toward the far side of the hall. "You see, I may be an exorcist, but I help people with other problems too. For example—her."
Ahsan followed his gaze and froze.
It was Maya—the quiet girl who rarely spoke and always sat alone, like she was living in a different world.
"Take off your glasses," AZ said quietly. "Look at the Djinn above her head."
Ahsan hesitated, then removed the enchanted glasses.
His breath caught.
The air around Maya shimmered—and then he saw it.
A monstrous, shapeless Djinn loomed behind her, so vast its shadow swallowed half the hall. Its translucent form pulsed and twisted, its eyes—if they could be called that—burning faintly like dying embers.
"W–what is that?" Ahsan whispered.
AZ's voice remained calm. "Remember what I told you? Djinns grow stronger from the emotions of their hosts. Hers has grown so massive, it's trying to consume her."
Ahsan turned to him, stunned. "Consume her? You mean—it'll kill her?"
AZ nodded. "If we do nothing, yes. But killing the Djinn isn't an option. When a Djinn is bound to a human, their souls intertwine. Destroying one will destroy the other—or worse, drive them insane."
Ahsan swallowed hard. "Then how do we stop it?"
AZ looked at Maya, his expression unreadable. "There's another way. But I'll need your help."
Ahsan's pulse quickened. "What do you want me to do?"
AZ's tone lowered. "For now—just watch. That thing feeds on despair. If it keeps growing, it'll push her to the edge. She's close… today might be the day she tries to end her life."
Ahsan's chest tightened. "And you're saying we'll stop her before that happens?"
AZ nodded once. "Exactly. We'll save her—from her Djinn… and from herself."
Ahsan watched Maya from the back of the classroom. She kept glancing at the clock as if each tick pushed her closer to something she couldn't escape. When the bell finally rang, she left without a word—no goodbye, no hesitation—just a cold, mechanical urgency that made Ahsan's skin prickle.
Across the street, AZ waited at a small café, steam curling from his coffee. When Ahsan slid into the booth, they exchanged only a glance before following Maya from a distance.
She cut through a narrow lane, slipped into an alley, and climbed the rusted stairs of an abandoned building. Her movements were stiff, like a soldier marching toward a decision she'd already made.
"So," Ahsan whispered, "how are we supposed to get rid of the Djinn?"
AZ didn't look at him. "Like I said, we can't kill it. We don't need to kill it."
Ahsan frowned. "Then how do we stop her?"
"Simple," AZ said calmly. "Ever heard of counselling? We're going to do that—just with a twist."
They followed her quietly up the stairwell. The air smelled of rust and rain.
"You know her well, right?" AZ asked. "She sits next to you."
"Not really. She barely talks to anyone."
"Great," AZ muttered. "You were supposed to be the one who talks her down. That's why I brought you here."
"Convince her? Do I look like a counsellor to you?" Ahsan hissed.
AZ just shrugged. "We'll improvise."
On the top floor, Maya stepped out onto the rooftop. She walked to the edge and stood there, trembling. The city stretched below her like a sea of glass and smoke.
Then she closed her eyes—and stepped forward.
Ahsan's heart stopped. The world shrank to the rush of wind and the scream caught in his throat. He and AZ lunged together, catching her wrists at the very edge.
AZ grunted, his voice strained yet teasing, "You've got a weak grip, kid. You almost lost her."
"Shut up!" Ahsan barked, his muscles burning as he held on. "I reached late, that's all!"
Maya thrashed, wild-eyed. "Let me fall! I'll kill you both if you don't!"
AZ smirked faintly despite the danger. "Unique way to thank your rescuers. Anyway, Ahsan—pull!"
Together, they dragged her back onto the rooftop, collapsing onto the cold concrete. For a long moment, no one spoke. Only the sound of their ragged breathing and the hum of the city below filled the silence.
Maya's wide eyes darted between the two men. When she recognized Ahsan, her lips trembled."You… you're my classmate, right? Why did you bother to save me? I'm as good as dead already."
AZ gave Ahsan a small, knowing glance — a silent signal. Say something.
Ahsan swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Well… I couldn't just let you die, could I?" he said quietly. "We might not know each other that well, but if you died today, I'd never forgive myself."He hesitated, then asked softly, "But… why do you want to end your life?"
Maya lowered her head. Tears slipped down her cheeks like rain on cracked glass."I'm an orphan," she began, her voice shaking. "My parents died when I was little. My grandparents raised me, but they passed away too. Now I live with my uncle and aunt. My uncle's kind… but my aunt—" she broke off, her voice trembling. "She calls me a bad omen. Says everyone who gets close to me ends up dead. She made my cousins afraid of me. After a while… I started believing her. Then Hasan came."
Her words grew fragile, barely more than a whisper. "He was my first love. The first person who made me feel like I wasn't cursed. But yesterday… he died. A car crash."Her tears came faster now. "That's why I wanted to die too. Everyone I love ends up gone. You two should stay away from me. I'll only bring you harm."
Ahsan placed a gentle hand on her trembling shoulder. "I know how you feel, Maya," he said softly. "I've lost someone precious, too. And for a long time… I blamed myself."His tone deepened, steady but full of warmth. "But you're wrong about being a bad omen. Death isn't something we control. None of us decides who leaves first. And when someone goes, they don't disappear completely. Their love, their memories, their hopes for you — they stay."
He smiled faintly. "Your parents, your grandparents, Hasan… I'm sure they're watching you right now. They want you to live. To become the woman they always believed you could be. And I believe in you, too."
Maya broke. She lunged forward and buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing as years of guilt spilled free.
AZ stood a few steps away, arms crossed, watching in silence. Above them, the enormous Djinn that had towered over her began to shrink — slowly, gently — until it was no larger than a cat, curling at her feet like a shadow that had finally found peace.
A smirk tugged at AZ's lips. "Hey, Ahsan, ever thought about becoming a motivational speaker? You might actually earn some money for once."He paused. "You know — aside from the six hundred dollars you still owe me."
Ahsan shot him a glare that said, clear as day: Not now, AZ.
The wind brushed past them, carrying away the last echoes of Maya's sobs.For the first time in a long while, she wasn't thinking about dying—she was thinking about living.