Dangerous Curiosity

The next morning, the atmosphere at Bar Pagos remained unchanged. Soft music played in the background, guests came and went, and the waitstaff carried out their duties as usual. But beneath the surface, something had begun to shift.

Vany looked busier than usual. She arranged glasses with quick, almost frantic movements. Every now and then, she glanced at Alice, who remained calm, lining up bottles as always.

Maros stood near the liquor shelf, observing. He said nothing, but he knew: the crack had begun to form.

Vany (quietly, to Maros): “Alice... she always gets the lighter tasks. Even though I’m the one working the hardest.”

Maros looked at Vany, then spoke softly. Maros: “Maybe it’s because she knows how to make herself seem... irreplaceable.”

Vany frowned. Vany: “You mean... she’s doing it on purpose?”

Maros (gently): “I wouldn’t know. But you could find out... if you start paying attention.”

Vany began to take notes. She started counting how many times Alice was assigned to the VIP area. How often Alice spoke directly with the manager. How rarely Alice had to clean tables.

By the afternoon, when the bar had quieted down, Vany approached Alice.

Vany: “You’re always in the VIP section, huh? Must be nice. No heavy lifting.”

Alice looked at Vany, expressionless. Alice: “I’m assigned there because I know how to talk to important guests. Not because I asked.”

Vany: “But you never refuse, do you?”

Alice didn’t respond. She simply returned to arranging bottles.

Maros passed by with an empty tray. He said nothing. But he glanced at Vany—a look that didn’t instruct, but affirmed.

Shadow (softly): “A small crack. But a growing one. You don’t need to destroy. You just need to wait for them to tear each other apart.”

That night, Vany worked with a different attitude. She was faster, more intense, more eager to be seen. But because of that, she started making small mistakes. Misaligned glasses. A drink slightly spilled. A smile that felt too forced.

Alice noticed everything. She didn’t speak. But she knew: something was being played.

And Maros? He simply stayed quiet. He served. He smiled faintly when needed. But behind it all, he had already begun arranging the pieces on the board.

The bar had closed. The lights were dim. The staff had gone home, and the streets outside were quiet—too quiet.

But Maros hadn’t left.

He stood in the alley behind Bar Pagos, eyes fixed on shadows that moved unnaturally. The air grew colder. The scent of iron and decay crept in.

From the darkness, something emerged.

The creature—twisted, veined, with limbs bent the wrong way and eyes that shimmered like shattered glass. It wasn’t human. Not animal. It was something else. Something that fed on envy, resentment, and fractured trust.

Maros (low voice): “You again. Feeding off what I planted, huh?”

The creature hissed, its voice like broken mirrors. Creature: “You sowed the seed. I harvest the feast.”

Maros didn’t respond. He reached into his coat and pulled out a jagged blade—black as void, pulsing with something that wasn’t his own.

The fight was brutal. Fast. Silent.

Maros moved like a shadow, his blade slicing through air, cutting illusions and flesh alike. The creature clawed at him, whispering secrets, trying to twist his mind. But Maros was already twisted enough.

He didn’t fight for glory. He fought to keep the game going.

Just as the creature lunged for his throat, Maros drove the blade upward—through its jaw, into its skull. It shrieked, then crumbled into ash.

But he wasn’t alone.

From the corner of the alley, a scream.

Vany.

She had followed him. Curious. Suspicious. And now, terrified.

She had seen everything.

Vany (trembling): “What... what was that? What are you?”

Maros turned, blood dripping from his hand, eyes calm. Maros: “Something that keeps the monsters out. Even the ones I invite in.”

Vany backed away, but her foot slipped. She fell, scraping her arm. The wound wasn’t deep, but the fear was.

Maros walked over, knelt beside her, and without a word, tore a strip from his sleeve to wrap her arm.

Vany: “You saved me... Why?”

Maros (softly): “Because you’re still useful.”

He smiled. Not cruelly. Not kindly. Just... knowingly.

Shadow (whispering): “She saw the truth. But truth doesn’t free you. It binds you tighter.”

Since that night, Vany hadn’t slept peacefully.

The image of that creature haunted her. But more than that—the look in Maros’s eyes. Calm, cold, and... honest. Not honest like a confession, but honest like someone who never needed to lie because he knew no one could touch him.

At the bar, Vany began to observe more closely. She watched how Maros spoke to the most difficult guests—always with a faint smile, always with words that made them feel important, but never truly close.

She started tracking patterns.

Vany (thinking): “He’s not just a waiter. He... orchestrates everything. Even people’s emotions.”

One evening, as the bar quieted down, Vany approached him.

Vany: “You know things other people don’t, don’t you?”

Maros looked at her, then continued arranging glasses. Maros: “People only know what they want to know. The rest... they ignore.”

Vany: “But you don’t ignore. You see everything.”

Maros paused for a moment. Maros: “Seeing doesn’t mean caring.”

Vany fell silent. But inside her, something began to grow. Curiosity. Not romantic. Not admiration. But... a dangerous kind of intrigue.

The next night, Vany began following Maros’s patterns. She noted who spoke to him. She started hearing whispers from other staff.

Staff A: “Maros is weird. But the VIPs love him.”

Staff B: “Sometimes I feel like he knows what we’re thinking.”

Vany began to realize: Maros wasn’t just a waiter. He was the center of something much larger.

And amid her observations, Vany noticed... another shadow.

Someone who never entered the bar. But always stood across the street. Watching Maros.

The figure wore a long coat. His face was hidden. But his eyes... glowed blue.

Vany (thinking): “Who is that? A hunter? Or... an enemy?”

Maros knew he was being watched. But he didn’t react. He simply smiled a little sharper that night.

Shadow (whispering): “The game has changed. And pawns are beginning to realize they can become players.”