Smoking sat behind his desk, cigarette dangling from his lips as his sharp eyes studied Daan and Drejo.
The smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, blending with the dim lighting and adding to the room's already suffocating atmosphere.
Daan could feel the tension in his shoulders, unsure how to explain what they'd just witnessed.
Finally, Smoking spoke, his voice gruff but laced with an odd calmness. "Okay, lemme get this straight." He exhaled a cloud of smoke and leaned forward, the chair's creak breaking the heavy silence.
"I know gods, demons, and all that shit exist—hell, one of the Revengers is literally Zeus, and now you're telling me a big-ass, seven-foot-tall woman was wiggling her ass out of Johnny's TV while he convulsed on the ground?"
Daan glanced at Drejo, who was rubbing his temples as if trying to process the absurdity of the situation himself. "Yeah," Drejo replied, voice steady despite his disbelief. "That's exactly what happened."
Smoking took another drag from his cigarette, his lips curling into a smirk. "Shit, kid, if anyone else told me that, I'd throw 'em out on their ass." He leaned back in his chair, flicking the cigarette butt into an ashtray. "But... I believe ya."
Daan's eyes widened slightly, surprised at how quickly Smoking accepted their story. "You... believe us?" Drejo asked, still processing the bizarre of it all.
"Yeah," Smoking grunted, reaching for another cigarette. "This ain't the first time I've heard of somethin' supernatural on this island. Uchaina's got its fair share of weird shit, you know, when you are a villain for as long as I've been, you've seen your share of world-ending events".
"But lemme tell you somethin'..." He paused to light the new cigarette, taking a deep drag before continuing. "This ain't our problem."
Drejo raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "What do you mean, boss? If there's some kinda curse or demon runnin' around, shouldn't we, you know, deal with it?"
Smoking chuckled, the sound low and almost dismissive. "Nah, this ain't our gig. When it comes to supernatural bullshit, The Resolute handles it."
Daan's curiosity piqued. He had heard that name before but wasn't entirely sure what it meant. "Who's The Resolute?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.
Smoking exhaled another puff of smoke and flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. "The Resolute's the main vigilante in Uchaina. The guy, or girl, I don't discriminate, is a pain in the balls, but the lord knows he's good at what he does."
"Takes care of anything big that happens on the island—especially if it's the kinda thing the local heroes can't handle; if this is something really worth bothering with, Resolute will handle it."
Drejo snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, 'good' if you like gettin' your ribs broken for dealin' weed or somethin'."
Smoking shrugged. "Hey, he keeps the peace. Most of the time, Sometimes, some days—anyway. Resolute ain't someone you wanna mess with, but he'll sort this out if it's really somethin' dangerous."
"Better to let him handle it than get ourselves involved in some demon, ghost crap."
Daan frowned, the system's mission pushing on him. He couldn't afford to sit back and let someone else handle this. "So, what do we do then?" he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a helpful direction.
Smoking leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "You boys can keep an eye on things. Let me know if this 'ghost' or whatever keeps showing up. But stay outta the real heavy stuff. You ain't that guy. Trust me, you ain that guy."
Daan nodded, though a part of him was frustrated. He couldn't just hand this over to some vigilante when his system demanded that he handle it.
Still, Smoking was right—they needed more information before diving deeper into something they didn't fully understand.
As they left Smoking's office, the heavy air outside felt refreshing, though the smog of Uchaina clung to Daan's clothes. Drejo let out a long breath and stretched. "Welp, that was somethin'."
Daan glanced at him. "So, what now? We just sit back and wait for The Resolute to show up?"
Drejo chuckled. "Hell no, man. If we want to figure out where this tape came from, we must do some digging. And there's only one place in Uchaina where you can get weird shit like that."
Daan raised an eyebrow. "The black market?"
"Yup," Drejo replied, leading the way down the crowded street toward a nearby food stall. "But it's not like you can just walk up to some vendor and ask for a cursed tape. You gotta know the right places. And the right people."
They reached the kebab stand they had eaten at earlier, and Drejo ordered another round of food. As they sat at the small plastic table, Drejo pulled out a pen and a napkin, scribbling something down as he chewed on his kebab.
"This," Drejo said, sliding the napkin over to Daan, "is the deep web address of the site where we buy stuff. Weapons, drugs, people—anything you can't get aboveboard. It's sketchy as hell, but if you're lookin' for something like that tape, this is where you'll find it."
Daan glanced at the string of letters and numbers on the napkin before slipping it into his pocket. "Thanks," he muttered, taking a bite of his kebab.
His mind was already racing with plans to investigate further. The deep web address was a good lead, but he knew it wouldn't be easy. Tracking down something as specific as a cursed tape would require time—and caution.
Just as they finished their meal, Daan and Drejo's phones buzzed simultaneously. Daan frowned, pulling his phone out of his pocket. The screen flashed with an unknown number.
He glanced at Drejo, who was also staring at his phone. "Are you getting a call, too?"
"Yeah," Drejo replied, his brow furrowing. "Weird timing."
They both answered their phones simultaneously, holding them up to their ears. There was nothing but static on the other end for a moment, and then a soft, feminine voice spoke—cold and distant.
"...Six days...fufufu~"
Daan's blood ran cold. He pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at the screen. The call had already ended. Drejo looked equally unsettled, his face pale as he lowered his phone.
"Did you...?" Drejo started, his voice shaky.
"Yeah," Daan whispered, his mind racing. "I heard it, too."
Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the weight of the words hanging in the air between them.
"We gotta move," Both Daan and Drejo said at the same time. Drejo threw a $100 bill to the cook, and both ran to Drejo's old car, hopping inside.
"Where?" Drejo asked as he tried to start the old rusty engine. "The most horrible, terrible, cursed place you can find," Daan said as he opened his system for any clue.
The night seemed to swallow the city whole as Drejo's beat-up car rumbled through the streets of Graycloud, navigating through grimy alleyways and flickering neon lights.
They made their way to JapanTown, a bizarre part of Graycloud that starkly contrasted with the rest of the city's industrial gloom.
"JapanTown?" Daan asked, leaning back in his seat. "Why the hell is there a JapanTown in Graycloud of all places? Isn't Graycloud's whole gimmick that you can't have shit here"
Drejo gave a sly grin, keeping his eyes on the road. "Where do you think all the weird shit comes from, huh? This place is ground zero for it."
Daan groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. "Of course. Makes sense. Shady magic cults and cursed tapes. This city just keeps getting better."
Drejo smirked. "My cousin's into all that black magic crap. Always comes here when he's looking for... weird stuff." He sharply turned, sending the old car bouncing over a pothole.
"Figured we'd ask around here first."
They parked near a rundown bowling alley, the neon sign above it flickering sporadically.
Above the alley was a narrow, rickety staircase that led to a small door marked only by a faded Japanese sign.
"Here we are." Drejo hopped out, slamming the door behind him. Daan followed, glancing up at the bar above. The air smelled faintly of stale beer and fried food.
"This looks... good..." Daan muttered as they climbed the stairs.
They stepped into a dimly lit bar that seemed to have remained unchanged for decades.
The place was cluttered with old posters of Japanese films, mismatched furniture, and dusty knickknacks. An elderly Asian woman stood behind the bar, her sharp eyes following them as they entered.
"What'll it be?" she asked in a gravelly voice, eyeing them with suspicion.
Drejo nudged Daan. "Give me the napkin."
Reluctantly, Daan pulled out the scribbled note and handed it over to Drejo, who handed it to the Old Woman.
The old woman's demeanor shifted the instant she read it. Her narrow eyes widened ever so slightly, and her lips curled into the faintest of smirks.
"What do you want?" she asked, her voice now hushed as if the weight of her words carried a warning. "And why didn't you just buy it online like everyone else?"
Drejo leaned against the bar, grinning. "We're looking for a cursed VHS tape. Can't ask the clerk if I'm buying online; you might know something about it."
The old woman's expression softened. She wiped her hands on a towel, then leaned closer over the bar, her voice a whisper. "What kind of tape?"
Daan and Drejo exchanged glances. "We don't know," Daan admitted, feeling uneasy under the old woman's gaze.
The woman raised an eyebrow. "Is it about the Eye of the Moon? Or is it connected to Our Saint Lady Death?"
Both Daan and Drejo responded in unison. "Huh?"
The woman sighed heavily, muttering something under her breath in Japanese. "It must be the other one," she grumbled, shaking her head.
She straightened up and stared hard at Drejo.
"Because your cousin spends so much money here, I'll help you—just this once. But listen carefully."
She leaned closer, her voice now carrying the chill of old folklore. "What you're dealing with is called the Curse of Madako."
Daan furrowed his brow. "Madako? You mean, like... the chick from The Rim?"
The old woman gave him a withering look. "The movie's based on real legends, genius."
"The tape you're looking for is probably an imitation—someone's copying the original tape and selling it as a weapon."
Daan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "How do we stop it?" he asked, his voice low.
The old woman chuckled dryly. "If someone is making duplicates of the cursed tape, you're already too deep. The only way out is to find the person making the copies and kill them with the original tape."
"And if we don't?" Drejo asked as he checked on his system. The old woman gave them a grim smile. "Then Madako will come for you."
Daan swallowed hard, but a part of him was starting to feel excitement. "Where do we start?"
The woman shrugged, "I don't know, that's up to you now," her expression grave. "If you value your life, kid, you'll stop while you're ahead. This curse isn't a game."
Daan smirked despite the cold knot forming in his stomach. "It's a Good thing I'm not playing." The old woman shook her head, muttering something in Japanese before waving them off.
"Good luck. You'll need it." Daan and Drejo stood, ready to leave. As they reached the door, the old woman called after them. "At least buy me a drink!" "Later! Promise!" Drejo said as he closed the wooden door. They left the bar, stepping back into the polluted air of Graycloud.