Finding Alice

The next morning, Bar Pagos opened like usual. Soft music played, guests trickled in, and the staff busied themselves with their routines.

Except for one.

Alice didn’t show up.

Manager: “Alice isn’t here yet? She’s usually the first one in.”

Vany: “Maybe she’s sick?”

Another waiter: “Or maybe she finally realized life’s not worth it and ran off to the mountains.”

Everyone chuckled. Except Vany. Something felt off. Too quiet. Too... clean.

Maros was behind the bar, arranging glasses. Calm. Too calm.

Vany (approaching): “Maros... did you see Alice last night?”

Maros (without looking up): “See her? Of course. I saw her... make a choice.”

Vany (confused): “A choice?”

Maros: “Yes. A choice not to come back.”

Vany: “You’re talking like she’s dead.”

Maros (staring at the glass): “If someone’s gone, unseen, and unsearched for... are they really alive?”

Vany: “Do you know where she is?”

Maros (smirking slightly): “She’s somewhere very quiet. No sound. No light. But... very peaceful.”

Vany: “So... she’s at a spa?”

Maros: “If the spa’s run by demons and decorated with bones, maybe.”

Vany froze. She stared at Maros, trying to read his face. But he just kept arranging glasses, one by one, with disturbing precision.

Vany: “You’re serious?”

Maros: “Serious is relative. But if you want to find her... ask the shadows in the old garden. They usually know more than humans do.”

Vany: “Shadows? You sound like a horror show host at 2 AM.”

Maros (looking at Vany): “2 AM is my favorite hour.”

Bar Pagos closed at 1 a.m. The lights dimmed, the last guest had left, and the scent of alcohol still lingered in the air.

Vany sat at the bar stool, rubbing her sore neck. Maros wiped down the counter with a cloth—too calm for someone who might’ve just committed murder.

Vany: “If Alice actually ran off with a sugar daddy, I’d be disappointed.”

Maros (deadpan): “If her sugar daddy owns a giant freezer and collects organs, maybe you won’t have to be.”

Vany: “…Can you talk like a normal person for once?”

Maros (looking at her): “Normal’s overrated. Look at Alice. She was normal. Now she’s... not very active.”

Vany: “‘Not very active’? You make it sound like she’s just on leave.”

Maros: “Leave from life.”

Vany sighed, then stood up. She grabbed her jacket and pulled a small flashlight from the drawer.

Vany: “I’m going to look for her. That old garden you mentioned... behind the bar?”

Maros: “Yep. But be careful. The shadows there whisper sometimes. They like spoiling people’s lives.”

Vany: “If I hear whispering, I’m running and screaming ‘I want a life refund!’.”

Maros (smirking): “If you find Alice, tell her... I kept her favorite glass. Top shelf. Empty. Like her future.”

Vany stared at Maros for a long moment. She couldn’t tell if he was joking, threatening, or just being himself.

Vany: “You’re... creepy. But funny. But creepy.”

Maros: “Thank you. That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Vany’s steps through the old garden felt heavy. Wild bushes, broken statues, and the damp scent of soil made the atmosphere increasingly hostile. Her small flashlight trembled in her hand.

Vany (muttering): “If this is just a prank, I swear I’m throwing Maros off a cliff.”

Suddenly, the sound of a snapping twig echoed. Vany turned quickly. Behind the bushes, someone appeared.

Alice.

But not the Alice she knew. Her eyes were vacant, her skin pale, and her movements... like a broken doll.

Vany: “Alice...? What... what happened to you?”

Alice didn’t respond. She simply walked forward, slow but deliberate. From another direction, more figures emerged—Alice’s gang. They too were... wrong. Their faces were mangled, eyes bulging, and their bodies moved like soulless puppets.

Vany (stepping back): “Okay. This isn’t a prank. This is... this is a low-budget zombie movie.”

Suddenly, Alice lunged and attacked Vany. Vany fell, her flashlight flying out of reach. She struggled to hold Alice back as she clawed and bit like a wild animal.

Vany: “ALICE! IT’S ME! YOUR FRIEND WHO ALWAYS TRASH-TALKS THE BAR CUSTOMERS!”

Just as Alice was about to sink her teeth into Vany’s neck, a loud sound rang out.

Vany was still struggling with Alice, who moved like a mindless zombie. Alice’s gang approached slowly, their movements stiff and unnatural. Vany screamed, panicking, as her flashlight flickered and died.

Suddenly... the air changed.

The night sky darkened even further. The ground trembled. Whispers echoed from every direction.

Whispers: “She belongs to us... she belongs to the darkness...”

From behind the trees, a tall figure emerged, cloaked in black. Eyes glowing red. A chilling aura wrapped around the garden.

Maros.

But not the bartender Maros. This was his true form—the Demon King.

Maros (voice echoing): “Pitiful creatures... you touched what’s mine.”

He raised his hand, and shadows rose from the ground like black smoke. The zombies froze. Their bodies trembled, then—

Maros: “Curse of the Hollow.”

One by one, their bodies exploded into black dust. Alice collapsed, twitching, but remained intact. She still had a fragment of her soul... or maybe Maros spared her on purpose.

From the trees, the Shadows emerged—faceless beings of smoke, gliding silently around Maros like loyal sentinels.

Vany (stunned): “You’re... not just a bartender.”

Maros (turning, cold smile): “And you’re not just a human. You lasted longer than most. I like that.”

Alice was taken to Maros’s mansion—a towering gothic structure perched on a dark hill. The walls were lined with eerie paintings, demonic statues, and whispering corridors.

Vany followed behind Maros, still in shock. The Shadows vanished one by one into the walls, melting into the darkness.

Alice was bound to a stone chair, her body still trembling. Maros stood before a small altar, preparing a ritual.

Maros: “I’ll try to purge the curse. But if I fail... she’ll become a new addition to my basement collection.”

Vany: “You have a basement for cursed people?”

Maros: “And a special shelf for failed diets.”

Vany: “…You’re creepy. But funny. But creepy.”

Maros (gazing at her): “Go home. This mansion isn’t kind to humans who aren’t ready.”

Vany: “If I have nightmares tonight, I’m sending you my therapy bill.”

Maros: “Feel free. Just don’t expect me to pay in human currency.”