"Tori" University's crumbling brick gates loomed behind Momo and Maya like a disappointed parent. The cousins slumped down the street, their backpacks sagging with the weight of two failed anthropology papers and a collective sense of doom. "We're academic roadkill," Momo groaned, lighting her fifth cigarette of the hour. The smoke curled into the shape of a tiny frowny face, which felt appropriate. Maya snorted, nearly tripping over a rogue goat. "Roadkill? More like "keema"(buffalo meat filling)—squished, spicy, and nobody's favorite.
"This was their rhythm: Momo, nicknamed after her father's legendary obsession with dumplings ("You came out squishy and steamed!" he'd joke), and Maya, whose name meant "love" and whose life was currently a delusion.
They'd been partners-in-crime since childhood, when they'd glued their kindergarten teacher's sandals to the floor for "science." Now, at 21, their crimes were smoking behind campus shrines and accidentally summoning street dogs by yelling "Meow Meow !" too loudly.
Their only solace? Bishnu Dai's Momo stall.
Bishnu Dai wasn't just a Momo maestro—he was a conspiracy theorist, part-time astrologer, and the girls' unofficial therapist. His cart, The Heavenly Dumpling, squatted near the noisy intersection of Bad Choices and Regret, its steam mingling with exhaust fumes."Ayy, my little disasters!" Bishnu Dai bellowed as they approached. His apron, stained with chili and existential dread, flapped in the wind.
"Failed another exam? Let me guess—you tried to bribe the professor with Fake Rupees again?"
Maya collapsed onto a wobbly stool."We told you that was a one-time thing!"
"And I told you Mercury is in the microwave!"
He slammed two plates of Momos onto the counter. "Eat. Grief is extra today."The cousins devoured the dumplings, their misery briefly paused by the garlicky bliss. Momo licked achar off her thumb.
"Why'd we major in anthropology again?"
"To prove our families wrong," Maya said, waving her cigarette like a conductor's baton.
"'Study business!' they said. 'Marry a banker!' they said. Jokes on them—now we'll die poor and unemployable!"
Bishnu Dai snorted. "If you two get any more employable, I'll eat my hat."
Three hours (and one ill-advised bottle of Raksi) later, the girls wobbled through "Mangalbazar's" labyrinthine alleys. The moon hid behind clouds, as if embarrassed by their existence.
"Momo," Maya hiccupped, "d'you think pigeons judge us?"
"Pigeons are the Chinese government spies," Momo replied gravely, stepping into a puddle. "Why d'you think they coo? It's Morse code for 'Noobs ahead!'"
They cackled, their laughter echoing off shuttered storefronts, until Maya froze. "Wait... isn't this Bishnu Dai's street?"Sure enough, The Heavenly Dumpling sat in the dark, its steamers silent. But from the shadowed alley behind it came a low, rhythmic chanting.
"Om trim brim bham ching ling... om trim bham bhram ching ling..."
Momo squinted. "Is he... praying?"Bishnu Dai knelt on the dirt, a flickering diya casting jagged shadows. In front of him sat a plate of raw meat... and something else.Something tall.Maya's cigarette fell from her lips.
"Is that... a costume?"
The creature stood seven feet tall, its leathery skin the color of overcooked liver. Curved ram's horns sprouted from its skull, and strings of Rudraksha beads clacked around its neck. Its eyes glowed like dying embers.
"Lakhey," Momo whispered, her grandma's tales flashing in her foggy brain.
"A demon... protector? Eater of bad karma? Or... eater of idiots?"
Bishnu Dai bowed deeply, pressing the raw meat toward the Lakhey.
"Oh mighty one, accept this humble offering! Guide me through this tough tax season!"
The Lakhey tilted its head, sniffed, and... burped. A sulfurous cloud wafted toward the girls. Maya gagged, still drunk.
"That's worse than your dad's gundruk soup!"Momo yelled, still drunk from the cheap alcohol.
The Lakhey's head snapped toward them. The cousins didn't scream. They didn't run. They stood frozen, two human statues of regret as they realized this was very much real. The Lakhey's lips peeled back into a grin full of jagged, bone-white teeth. Somewhere behind them, a street dog howled.
Bishnu Dai sighed. "Ayy, this is why I don't do group discounts."
The Lakhey lunged, its horns carving arcs of moonlight as it charged—not at the girls, but past them. Momo and Maya spun, their laughter dying in their throats.
Behind them, the air rippled like water struck by a stone. A massive ox-like spirit materialized, its obsidian hooves cracking the asphalt. Smoke coiled from its nostrils, and its eyes glowed like forge-fired iron. Jagged, rusted chains bound its legs, dragging with a screech that set teeth on edge. The beast lowered its head, horns gleaming like scythes, and charged.
"That's... not a cow!" Momo shrieked, scrambling backward into a pyramid of empty crisper drawers.
The Lakhey met the ox in a collision that shook the street. Sparks erupted as horns locked, the sound echoing like a cathedral bell struck by a hammer. The ox spirit reared, its chains whipping forward, but the Lakhey twisted mid-air, serpentine and savage. It landed on a parked delivery van, denting the roof, and lunged again, claws raking the ox's flank.
Black ichor sprayed the alley. Maya screamed as a droplet seared her jacket sleeve.
"What is that thing?!"
"A soul-eater!" Bishnu Dai yelled from behind a toppled trash bin. "Feeds on regrets! Very bad "Amazon" reviews!"
The ox roared, slamming its hooves. The ground fractured, swallowing a streetlamp whole. The Lakhey snatched the lamp's severed pole, wielding it like a lance, and drove it into the ox's shoulder. The spirit bucked, thrashing wildly, its chains demolishing a brick wall.
Momo dragged Maya behind a car. "Since when do demons joust?!"
The Lakhey scaled the ox's heaving side, claws digging into its smoky hide. The spirit writhed, slamming itself against buildings, shattering windows into glittering rain. The demon clung on, snarling, until it reached the beast's neck—and bit down.
The ox's howl split the night. It staggered, ichor pooling beneath it, and collapsed. Its body dissolved into ash, the chains crumbling to rust.
Silence fell, heavy and brittle, broken only by the drip-drip of leaking mango juice.
The Lakhey loomed over the girls, its chest heaving, blood (or something darker) dripping from its jaws. Maya crumpled to her knees, sobbing.
Momo's mind raced—payment, payment, what do you give a demon?!
Bishnu Dai limped forward, clutching a bent ladle like a weapon. "idiots! The Lakhey doesn't work for free. It saved your hides! Now it wants payment!"
"P-payment?!" Momo fumbled through her pockets. Gum wrappers, a half-eaten protein bar, and—there. A crumpled gift voucher. "H-here! 5,000 credits at Bhatbhateni superstore! Take it!"
The Lakhey tilted its head, plucking the voucher with a clawed finger. It sniffed the paper, then tucked it into a pouch at its belt. With a final, disdainful glare, it melted into the shadows, leaving only the stench of burnt sugar and dread.
Bishnu Dai scowled. "You offered a coupon? That thing eats souls. Next time, offer cash."
Maya sniffled. "Do... demons shop at Bhatbhateni?"
"How else do you think they get sacrificial rice? Wholesale!"
As Maya's sobbing slowed down and their heartbeats lowered, Momo stared at the voucher's twin in her pocket. The barcode shimmered faintly.
"Momo?", Maya whimpered.
"Yeah?"
"Let's never drink again."
"Deal."