Inside Aunt Li's home, time seemed to move differently.
The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and old paper. Candles flickered on every surface, their flames bending and whispering as if listening to something unseen.
Vincent closed the door behind them, and the sound echoed — final, almost ceremonial.
Nattalie felt it immediately — that strange heaviness pressing against her chest.
Every breath seemed to draw in fragments of forgotten voices.
Aunt Li motioned for them to sit. "You've come with questions," she said, her tone calm but distant, "but not all questions are meant to be answered easily."
Vincent remained composed, but Nattalie's hands trembled in her lap. "I… I don't want to hurt anyone," she whispered. "I don't even understand what's happening to me. Every time I feel scared or sad, something changes."
Aunt Li's eyes — dark, unreadable — settled on her.
"The curse does not awaken by chance, child. It awakens when the blood remembers."
"The blood?" Vincent repeated quietly.
"Yes." Aunt Li's voice softened, like a prayer. "The Huang bloodline carries more than wealth and legacy. It carries punishment — for a promise broken long ago."
Nattalie's breath caught. "A promise?"
Aunt Li nodded slowly, rising from her chair.
Her movements were graceful, almost ghostly, as she reached for a faded chest hidden beneath a woven mat. The hinges groaned when she opened it, releasing a faint shimmer of gold dust into the air.
Inside were fragments — brittle scrolls, old letters, and a porcelain pendant carved with the shape of a fox.
"This was your ancestor's," Aunt Li said, tracing her fingers across the pendant's surface. "Lie Niu Er — the woman who began it all."
The name struck something deep within Nattalie's memory. She'd heard it once before, whispered by her father in hushed anger.
"She fell in love with someone she shouldn't have," Aunt Li continued. "A scholar bound by vows and law. When he chose his duty over her heart, she made a vow to the spirits — that love would never again bind her to weakness."
The candlelight flared, throwing their shadows across the walls.
"She was granted her wish," Aunt Li said darkly. "But every blessing has a price. Her heart hardened, and her spirit grew restless. In death, she cursed her own bloodline — that each generation would bear her power… and her loneliness."
Nattalie's throat went dry. "Power? You mean the transformation?"
"The beast within you," Aunt Li corrected. "It is not just a curse. It is a reflection. When your emotions spiral — fear, grief, rage — the spirit of Lie Niu Er stirs. She seeks to protect you, but she does not understand what it means to be human anymore."
Vincent frowned. "Then how do we stop it?"
Aunt Li turned her gaze to him — and for a fleeting second, sadness replaced her calm.
"You don't stop it," she said. "You learn to live with it… or it consumes you."
Silence settled between them, deep and heavy.
Nattalie stared at the pendant glowing faintly in Aunt Li's hands. "So I'm supposed to just… live like this? Forever scared of myself?"
"No," Aunt Li whispered, stepping closer. She placed the pendant gently into Nattalie's palm. "You must learn to master it. The curse is not your enemy, child — it is the shadow of your heart. Tame it, and it will obey you."
Nattalie looked down at the pendant, feeling its warmth pulse softly against her skin.
For a moment, it almost felt alive.
"What if I fail?" she asked, voice trembling.
Aunt Li's expression softened — for the first time, almost tender.
"Then," she said, "the spirit of Lie Niu Er will awaken fully. And when she does, she will no longer be content living through you."
Vincent's eyes darkened. "What do you mean?"
Aunt Li turned toward the window, where the wind had begun to stir the curtains.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"She will want her body back."
***