"Don't I already have you?" Vannie said casually, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're practically my assistant. Why would I need to hire another one?"
David sighed, forcing patience. "But I can't stay with you all the time, Vannie. I have my own life, my own classes, and I—"
"—have to take care of Lydia Wang, that clingy girlfriend of yours?" she interrupted, tone razor-sharp.
David's lips pressed into a thin line. He didn't bother denying it.
"She can be clingy sometimes," he admitted, "but at least she's sweeter than you."
Vannie didn't flinch. Her face remained calm — cool as glass.
"I don't care," she said flatly. "Do you think I need your attention?"
David frowned. "You've changed, Nattalie. So much that none of us — me, Father, Mother, or our siblings — even know how to talk to you anymore. Do you really want to stay like this?"
He looked at her with quiet concern. He wasn't the same mischievous brother who used to tease Nattalie when they were kids. He knew better now — knew how much she carried alone. But still, he couldn't understand how his once-bright little sister had turned into this cold, guarded woman.
The girl who had once loved to sing and laugh now hid behind the mask of Vannie Lung, a famous actress who smiled only when the cameras demanded it.
She had chosen this life — despite the curse. Despite the danger. Despite everything her family had begged her not to do.
Nattalie Huang, cursed by blood, had reinvented herself under a new name.
She walked to her locker, reaching for her bag. Then—
"Ah!!"
The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it. The sound echoed against the walls of the dressing room.
In an instant, she slammed the locker shut and locked the door.
David was on his feet immediately, rushing to her side. Thankfully, no one else was in the room.
Her face had gone pale. Her hands trembled.
"What is this?" she gasped, voice shaking as she backed away.
David's eyes darted from her to the locker, then back again. Panic flickered in his voice.
"Nattalie — control your breathing! You know what happens when your heart rate spikes! You're wearing the bracelet, right?"
She nodded weakly, pressing her palm to her chest.
"Brother… my heart…"
"Breathe," he said firmly, gripping her shoulders. "Calm down. You've handled this before. You can control it."
Because of that damn curse.
The one passed down through the Huang bloodline — binding, relentless, ancient.
Even if she lived as Vannie Lung, even if she smiled for millions on screen, the curse was always there. Waiting.
She couldn't let anyone know. Not her fans. Not the crew. Not the world.
If her secret ever got out, everything she'd built would shatter.
David's jaw clenched in anger as his gaze fell on the locker.
Inside was a small black box — and inside that, a doll.
A handmade figure, about the size of a hand… covered in something that looked like dried blood, punctured over and over again with needles.
David slammed the box shut and hurled it against the wall.
"What the hell is wrong with people?!" he hissed. "Can't they tell the difference between fiction and reality?"
Outside, someone knocked urgently on the door.
"Miss Lung? Are you inside? We heard you scream! Why is the door locked?"
Vannie's breathing quickened. She glanced at the clock, then at David — her eyes wide with fear. The look said everything: What do we do?
David's mind raced. Then he called out smoothly, "It's me, David Huang. Everything's fine — Miss Lung was just startled, that's all! She's changing behind the curtain, so we need a moment. Please give us some privacy."
A pause. Then another voice, uncertain. "Are you sure everything's alright?"
David met Vannie's anxious eyes and nodded firmly before answering, "Yes, everything's fine. Please return to your stations. We'll be out shortly."
As the footsteps retreated, silence fell again.
Vannie sat down slowly, pressing her hand against her heart, trying to steady her breathing.
Two minutes. That was all she needed. Two minutes to stop the pounding in her chest before the curse took hold.
David knelt beside her, his voice low. "You okay?"
Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply — once, twice — then exhaled. When she opened them again, her color had returned.
"I'm fine now. I won't change."
She looked toward the locker, fury simmering beneath her calm.
"But can you explain this?" she asked tightly. "That… thing. Why was it in my locker? And this isn't the first time."
David's face darkened. He didn't need to ask what she meant.
The last time, her transformation had gone out of control — turning her into a gray Pomsky right in the middle of the night.
Years ago, when the curse first appeared, Nattalie could change into any four-legged animal.
Now, at twenty-four, her form had stabilized — permanently linked to that one creature.
A small gray Pomsky — fragile, beautiful, cursed.
David's voice was grim. "I don't know. But did you see anyone strange around your dressing room today? Anyone from outside the crew?"
She shook her head weakly. "No. No one suspicious."
Her shoulders slumped. "I almost changed, David. I almost ruined everything again."
He scowled, frustration breaking through. "This is exactly why we never wanted you in this industry! You're playing with fire!"
She turned to him desperately, clutching his sleeve. "Please — don't tell Father. Or the others. Especially Mother."
David hesitated.
"Brother," she pleaded softly, her voice cracking.
He exhaled heavily, closing his eyes.
"Fine," he murmured, resting a hand on her head. "I won't tell anyone. But I don't know how long we can keep this secret, Nattalie. Sooner or later, someone's going to find out."
Then, more quietly — almost a whisper:
"Are you sure you still want to do this? To stay in this drama… knowing what could happen?"
***