Chapter 7: Hunger of the Curse

The day had barely started, and already Aria’s head was pounding.

It was worse than usual—an ache not just behind her eyes, but threading through her bones, her lungs, her spine. Each step she took left behind the echo of a distant scream that wasn’t there. She gritted her teeth and sat down at her desk.

The morning sunlight poured through the windows, soft and golden, as if trying to reach her. But she didn’t want its warmth. Her fingers twitched, and her veins itched like they were filled with fire.

It had been three days since her last feeding.

Her mana had grown stronger with every victim, with every moment she pushed past the limits of cruelty. But with that growth came hunger—something deep and gnawing and alive. The curse didn’t allow her to plateau. It demanded more. It fed on more.

And when she delayed? It punished.

Her hands trembled slightly as she opened her notebook. Sweat dotted her brow, cold and sharp. Her vision blurred for a second, then snapped back.

Ren, seated behind her, noticed.

At lunch, he caught up with her by the vending machines. "You’re pale."

"I’m always pale," she snapped, hand darting out for a canned coffee.

"You’re shaking."

She turned her head sharply. "I can handle it."

He didn’t push further.

But he followed her.

The classroom was empty after school. Aria remained, hunched slightly in her seat, hiding how tightly her fingers dug into her thighs. The pain had migrated—her muscles ached like they were being ripped open from the inside. Her heart stuttered and burned like molten glass. She clenched her jaw.

Ren leaned against the wall beside the door. Watching. Waiting.

Finally, she stood. Her legs nearly gave.

He stepped forward.

"Don’t," she hissed.

"Let me see."

She didn’t resist when he moved closer.

Aria rolled up her sleeve. Her veins were glowing faintly—no longer with the steady light of stored mana, but with a flickering pulse, like a flame on the verge of burning out.

Ren stared. "It’s unstable."

"Because I waited too long." Her voice cracked slightly. "The more mana I have, the more it demands. Like a furnace. I have to feed it... or it starts eating me."

Ren frowned. "Why haven’t you?"

"Because I haven’t found anyone worthy." Her eyes gleamed then, sharp and venomous. "Do you want me to take a child off the street? A classmate? I’m not sloppy. I choose carefully. And right now—"

She winced as her legs gave again. Ren caught her arm and steadied her.

She looked up, startled.

"You don’t have to collapse in front of me to prove anything," he said.

They walked through the city together that night. Neither said much. The streetlights were dim, and the sky was the color of soot. Ren didn’t ask her how she was feeling again. Aria didn’t thank him.

When they reached a narrow alley behind an abandoned building, Aria turned.

"Wait here."

He did.

She vanished into the dark.

What followed was not quiet. He heard muffled screams. The buzz of mana. The screech of something unnatural—and then, silence.

When she returned, blood flecked her collar. Her eyes were steady again. The glow beneath her skin had stabilized.

Ren didn’t flinch.

"You knew I’d have to."

"I know," he said.

They walked again.

At her door, she paused.

"Why do you stay with me?"

Ren shrugged. "You don’t lie. You don’t pretend."

Aria tilted her head. "That’s it?"

"You’re the only person in this world who doesn’t look at me like I’m broken. And maybe... I’m the only one who can look at you without blinking."

A silence passed between them. Cold, but not hostile.

She nodded once and stepped inside.

The door closed.

And Ren stood there for a moment longer—silent under the streetlamp—before turning back into the night.