✧ PHIMNA ✧

Phimna (Main caste)

Age: 20

Blood type: O+

Weight: 48

Height: 5'6

Hair type and colour: Straight, black

Skin colour: Pale like a vampire

Phimna possesses a stunning beauty with smooth, pale skin resembling moonlight. Her straight, black hair cascades down her back like silk, framing delicate features that emit a mysterious aura. She stands at 5'6" tall, carrying herself gracefully, her dark aura hinting at hidden secrets. Despite her slim frame of 48 kg, she exudes strength and confidence. Her style blends the occult with elegance, adding to her enigmatic charm.

ASHROM (Main caste)

Nor dead nor alive, living his immortal life.

Age: 498

Hair and eye colour: Black hair, green and grey eyes

Skin colour: Pale like a vampire

Ashrom appears neither dead nor alive, existing in an eternal state of immortality. At 498 years old, he possesses a sharp jawline and striking features. His hair is jet black, complemented by eyes that hold a mix of green and grey hues. His skin, pale as a vampire's, adds to his mysterious allure. Emitting a dark aura, he carries the weight of years of pain and suffering, evident in his haunting gaze.

YANSOMONG (Supporting caste)

Only son of a rich businessman, music is the only way to heal himself...

Age: 21

Hair colour: Brown

Eye colour: Brown

Skin colour: Slightly tan

Yansomong is a 21-year-old with brown hair, brown eyes, and slightly tan skin. He's the only son of a wealthy businessman and finds solace in music, using it as a means of healing himself.

RAVE

Age: 21

Hair colour: brown

Eye colour: green

Skin colour pale

Rave a 21 year old, who's adored by ashrom, is now suffering from blood cancer.

Runa

Age: 21

Phimna's only best friend.

Eslo

Black cat

Age: 485

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Daily update: Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday

Note from the author:

"This story is based on real events that inspired some of the scenes."

Here are some intriguing fun facts about witches:

Historical Origins: The concept of witches dates back to ancient times, with mentions found in cultures worldwide, from Greek and Roman mythology to indigenous traditions.

Salem Witch Trials: One of the most infamous events in witch history, the Salem Witch Trials of 1692 in Massachusetts, saw the execution of 20 people accused of witchcraft. It was a tragic episode fueled by hysteria and paranoia.

Halloween Connection: The modern image of witches, with pointed hats and broomsticks, is heavily influenced by Halloween traditions. Witches became iconic figures associated with the spooky holiday.

Familiar Spirits: Witches were believed to have animal companions or "familiars" that aided them in their magical endeavors. Cats, owls, and toads were commonly depicted as familiars.

Herbalism and Healing: Many historical witches were skilled herbalists and healers, using plants and natural remedies to cure ailments. However, their knowledge often led to suspicion and accusations of witchcraft.

Modern Witchcraft: Today, witchcraft has experienced a revival, with practices ranging from Wicca to eclectic forms of paganism. Modern witches often emphasize spirituality, nature reverence, and empowerment.

Pop Culture Influence: From literature to movies and TV shows, witches remain prominent figures in pop culture, with characters like Hermione Granger from Harry Potter and the iconic Wicked Witch of the West from The Wizard of Oz leaving a lasting impression.

CHAPTER 1

The room was cloaked in the blue haze of cigarette smoke as Phimna reclined on her bed, lost in the world of music streaming through her headphones. Her fingers traced wispy shapes in the air as the melody enveloped her. Suddenly, the shrill ring of her alarm pierced the tranquil atmosphere, jolting her back to reality.

With a swift motion, she swung her legs off the bed and slipped into a sleek black leather jacket, the fabric whispering against her skin. Her feet found refuge in polished black boots that echoed her determined steps. The room, once tranquil, now buzzed with the urgency of her movements.

Grabbing a purse, she deftly applied a coat of bold red lipstick, a striking contrast to her otherwise dark ensemble. She cast a swift glance in the mirror, a smirk dancing on her lips, before tucking the key into her purse and closing the door behind her, locking away the sanctuary of her apartment.

Outside, the weather mirrored her inner chill, the biting wind a harsh reminder of the world beyond her door. Undeterred, she strode down the street, each step purposeful against the backdrop of the cold evening.

Pushing against the cafe's creaky door, Phimna stepped inside, greeted by a cashier who beamed at her arrival. "Phim, you're here!" The corners of Phimna's lips curved up slightly in response as she nodded in acknowledgment. She made her way into the staff room, a space tucked away from the cafe's bustle.

Inside, she dropped her purse onto a nearby chair and gathered her long, black hair into a low ponytail, securing it deftly. Grabbing an apron, she fastened it around her waist before emerging back into the main area.

The cashier, whom she'd encountered earlier, chirped, "Phim, I'm done for the day." Phimna nodded, bidding her farewell, "Bye bye, Runa." With a joyful smile, Runa left the cafe, her departure casting a brief glow over the atmosphere.

Phimna stationed herself at the cashier's spot, exhaling a sigh of relief. Leaning against the counter, she gazed out the window. The fading daylight painted the sky in hues of twilight, and the cold seeped through the glass, a reminder of the encroaching darkness.

........

Phimna glanced at her phone as the clock struck 7 pm. "Work's done," she murmured to herself. In the staff room, she swiftly shed her apron, snatched her purse and the café keys, and locked up for the night. On her way home, she paused near an upscale wine shop, gazing at it for a while before continuing her walk.

"If teenage me glimpsed my life now, she'd probably roll her eyes and kill herself," Phimna mused, a wistful chuckle escaping her lips.

Inside her humble abode, she peeled off her boots and jacket, opting for comfort in a black hoodie and shorts. She rustled up a quick dinner of ramen and a fried egg. Post-meal, she fished out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, slipping out onto her terrace. Perched at the corner, legs dangling, she stared into the night.

Phimna's gaze drifted downward, contemplating the notion of an abrupt leap that could end her life-a thought that had lingered in her mind more times than she cared to admit. She scoffed at the idea, dismissing it as quickly as it had surfaced.

PHIMNA

This life-it's nothing like what I'd dreamed of. Days spent at work, returning to an empty home, drained of vitality, devoid of purpose. I'm merely existing, barely scraping by. I don't belong here, living off the meager earnings from a café. I lack the education for a prestigious art gallery job or the money to craft a successful jewelry brand. I'm just drifting along with life's current.

A tear trickles down my cheek, swiftly followed by a drag from my cigarette.

Suddenly, a man's cries catch my attention. Turning, I spot him leaning against the railing, his back to me, engulfed in sorrow. Without intending to hurt him, I quip, 'Crying? What a loser.' I don't know how to console people-I just wanted the tears to stop. He snaps back, 'Mind your own business.' His back was symmetrical, like mine, his black hair and pale hands mirroring my own. Blood stained his fingers.

Taking another drag, I retrieve a cigarette from my pocket and approach him, extending it. Peering at his profile, he seemed carved from an anime or novel-sharp features, a face like a perfect fiction. His eyes meet mine, a fusion of green and grey, obscured by the darkness. He accepts the cigarette as I light it for him, claiming, 'I don't like others using my lighter,' though it's a lie. I simply yearned for a glimpse of his face.

Glancing at the sky, I retreat inside, pulling my hoodie over my head to shield from the cold. He remains outside, but the chill drives me indoors. In my room, cocooned in blankets, music whispering, I succumb to sleep while gazing at the ceiling.

My eyes were drifting shut, fatigue lulling me into sleep's embrace when suddenly, *BOOM* *TAP* shattered the tranquility-a deafening noise that felt like someone crashing down. My mind instantly flashed to the guy I'd encountered on the terrace earlier. Hastily slipping on my slippers, I dashed outside, heart racing.

But there was nothing. Just the empty terrace, bathed in the moon's soft glow and the rustling of leaves. Peering over the railing, I found no one below. Doubts gnawed at me, compelling me to check the ground. Racing down the stairs, I scanned the area, searching desperately for any sign of a fallen figure. There was none.

Panic swelled within me, followed by an odd sense of relief at the absence of a body. "At least he didn't k8ll himself," the words slipped out, causing a surge of conflicting emotions. Memories surged back, memories of my own battles with dark thoughts and self-gaslighting, convincing myself that things would get better, that giving up wasn't an option. Yet, here I am, nothing but a failure.

"He should just k!ll himself, it's the best option"

I turn around and head back to my apartment.

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(**Warning:** *The portrayal of cigarette usage in this scene is entirely fictional. Smoking is harmful to health and may cause serious illnesses. This depiction is for storytelling purposes and does not endorse or promote smoking in any form)

TO BE CONTINUED....