(Yuki's POV)
"Cursed?" The word feels foreign on my tongue, like it belongs in some fantasy novel rather than my very real and very mundane life. "What do you mean, cursed?"
The hooded figure steps closer, their movements slow and deliberate, like they're savoring my confusion. "Exactly what it sounds like, Yuki Tanaka. Your body, your soul… they're changing. And it's only the beginning."
I take a step back, my legs trembling. "This is insane. You're insane."
They chuckle, a low, unsettling sound that echoes in the cavernous library. "Deny it all you want. But tell me this—have you looked in the mirror lately? Really looked?"
My breath hitches. Of course, I've noticed. The changes. The softness in my face. The way my body feels… wrong, yet disturbingly natural all at once. But admitting that to this stranger feels like giving them power over me.
"You don't know anything about me," I snap, trying to summon some semblance of courage. "I don't know who you are or why you're here, but I don't need your help."
The figure sighs, almost as if disappointed. "Ah, Yuki. Always so stubborn." They reach into their cloak and pull out something small and glimmering. A pendant, its surface etched with intricate, swirling patterns. It seems to hum with an energy I can't quite describe.
"This should answer your questions," they say, tossing the pendant to me.
I catch it clumsily, the metal cool against my skin. The moment it touches my palm, a wave of warmth floods through me. Images flash in my mind—a serene forest, a pool of shimmering water, a shadowy figure standing at its edge. And then, pain. Searing, all-encompassing pain.
I stagger back, clutching my head as the visions fade. "What… what the hell was that?"
"Your truth," the figure says simply. "The curse was laid upon you long before you were born. A debt, passed down through your bloodline. And now, it's your burden to bear."
My mind is spinning, the pendant feeling heavier with every passing second. "No. No, this can't be real. This has to be some kind of joke."
"Do I look like I'm joking?" they reply, their voice sharp. "You're running out of time, Yuki. The transformation is already underway. If you don't find a way to break the curse, you will become something entirely different. Permanently."
The word "permanently" sends a chill down my spine. My hands tremble as I look at the pendant, its strange glow pulsating like a heartbeat.
"How?" My voice is barely above a whisper. "How do I break it?"
The figure chuckles again, but this time there's no malice in it. "Ah, now you're asking the right questions. But I'm afraid the answers won't come easily. You'll need to uncover the curse's origin, understand its purpose. Only then can you hope to undo it."
"And how am I supposed to do that?" I ask, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I don't know anything about curses or magic or whatever this is!"
"Start with your past," they say cryptically. "Your family. The people closest to you. The truth is often hidden in plain sight."
Before I can ask anything else, the lights in the library flicker. When they stabilize, the figure is gone, leaving only silence and the faint hum of the pendant in my hand.
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The walk home is a blur. My mind is a storm of questions and fears, the pendant clutched tightly in my hand. By the time I reach my apartment, I'm completely drained.
I drop onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzes on the nightstand, but I can't bring myself to check it. Probably Aoi, wondering where I am. What could I even say to her?
"Hey, Aoi. Guess what? Some creepy stranger told me I'm cursed and turning into something else. How was your day?"
Yeah, no.
The pendant sits on the nightstand, its glow dim but persistent. I can't ignore it, no matter how much I want to. My fingers brush against it, and a strange sense of calm washes over me, like it's trying to reassure me. Or maybe it's just messing with my head.
Either way, I have no idea what to do next. But one thing is clear: my life is no longer my own. And if I don't figure this out soon, it might not even be my life anymore.
"Cursed," I whisper to the empty room. The word feels heavier now. Real.
And terrifying.