The night was a raging beast, its fury unleashed in relentless sheets of rain. The highway stretched ahead, empty and slick, swallowed by the darkness beyond Malang’s headlights. The rhythmic swipe of the wipers barely kept up with the downpour, their mechanical hum the only sound inside his car. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as a distant flash of lightning illuminated the road ahead.
And that’s when he saw her.
A lone figure stood drenched in the rain, shrouded in darkness, her slender frame barely visible under the glow of his headlights. Her clothes clung to her body, her veil concealing her face, making her seem ghostly, fragile—helpless. She didn’t move, didn’t wave for help. She simply stood there, as if waiting for him.
Malang’s foot eased off the accelerator. His brows furrowed in concern. A woman, alone, in this weather? Something wasn’t right.
He slowed down and rolled down his window slightly, letting the cold wind whip against his face.
"Hey! Are you alright?" he called out over the roar of the storm.
She lifted her head, and through the veil, he glimpsed a pair of hauntingly wide, terrified eyes. She took a step closer, rain dripping from her trembling hands.
"P-please... help me..." her voice quivered, barely audible over the rain.
Malang’s heart clenched.
"What happened?" he asked, scanning the deserted road behind her.
"They’re chasing me..." her voice cracked, and she turned her head as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows. "Please... save me..."
There was no hesitation. No second thoughts.
"Get in," he said, unlocking the door.
She hesitated for a second before slipping into the backseat, her wet clothes leaving dark stains on the leather. Malang glanced at her through the rearview mirror—she was shivering, curled up, almost disappearing into herself.
"Where to?"
She whispered an address, her voice barely above a breath. He recognized it—the outskirts of the city, where the dense forest began. A strange location, but he didn’t question it. He just drove.
The rain thundered against the car, the wipers fighting to keep the road visible. Silence filled the space between them.
"Who was after you?" he finally asked, eyes flickering to the mirror.
She didn’t answer. She only hugged herself tighter.
Something about this felt... off.
A sense of unease crept up his spine. But Malang shook it off. She needed help, and he wouldn’t turn his back on her.
The drive stretched on, and soon, the city lights faded behind them, swallowed by the dense forest that lined the narrow road.
Then, the mansion appeared.
A towering structure, ancient yet eerily beautiful, stood in the middle of the woods. Ivy crept up its stone walls, its windows dark and lifeless. The moment Malang stopped the car, a realization settled deep in his gut.
This wasn’t right.
Before he could react, a soft giggle echoed from the backseat.
His blood ran cold.
Slowly, he turned his head—just in time to see the veil slip away, revealing a smiling face he never expected.
"Veronica?"
Her obsidian eyes glowed with something unreadable.
"Finally," she whispered, her lips curling into a smirk.
Malang reached for the door handle, but before he could move—a sharp sting at his neck. His body froze, his vision blurred.
The last thing he heard was her soft voice, whispering in the dark.
"You belong to me, Malang. Always have. Always will."
And then—darkness.
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