Ahsan returned home after another exhausting day at college. His plan was simple: take a quick shower, eat lunch, then head straight to AZ's office. No delays. No interruptions.
Plans, however, never survived his mother.
"Ahsan!" her voice called from the kitchen.
He sighed quietly and walked in. "Yes, Mom? Do you need help?"
She smiled warmly. "Take a bath and eat properly. Your new tutor will arrive today."
The words hit him like a punch to the chest.
A tutor? Now?
"No," he said quickly. "Mom, I can't study today. I need to go out after lunch."
The smile vanished.
His mother turned slowly, her eyes narrowing—not in anger, but in authority. The kind that made even demons reconsider their life choices.
"What did you say?" she asked calmly.
Ahsan's spine went rigid.
"You will study with the tutor," she continued. "No excuses. No arguments."
He swallowed and nodded. Arguing now would be suicide—socially and spiritually.
After bathing and eating, he barely tasted a thing. His thoughts raced. If I miss AZ even one day, the demonic limb could worsen. I can't afford this.
His mother peeked in again. "Done eating? Your teacher is already waiting in your room. He arrived while you were bathing."
Ahsan froze.
Already?
Heart pounding, he walked toward his room, rehearsing excuses, lies—anything to get rid of the tutor quickly.
He opened the door.
And stopped dead.
Sitting calmly at his desk was a man dressed in a black T-shirt and black jeans. Blue eyes. Familiar posture. Annoyingly relaxed expression.
AZ.
Ahsan shut the door behind him and whispered sharply, "What are you doing here?"
AZ leaned back, resting his chin on his hand. "Is that how you greet your tutor?" he said thoughtfully. "Looks like I'll need to teach you manners as well."
Ahsan stared. "Tutor? What are you talking about? When did you even—"
AZ smiled. "Remember when you were trapped in that haunted room? I told you I found out your location from your mother."
Ahsan nodded slowly.
"What I didn't tell you," AZ continued, "is that I introduced myself as your private tutor."
Ahsan groaned.
"And," AZ added with satisfaction, "she accepted me without hesitation."
Of course she did.
Ahsan dropped onto his bed, rubbing his face. "You planned this."
AZ shrugged. "I call it efficiency."
Ahsan let out a long sigh. Between demons, curses, and now home tutoring, escape truly was impossible.
And somehow... that terrified him less than it should have.
Ahsan let out a long sigh. "So... what now?"
AZ reached into his bag and pulled out the glass dome. "Lift your pants. I need to examine your leg again."
Ahsan obeyed. The moment the dome settled over his leg, the familiar pressure returned. AZ leaned closer, his expression unreadable.
"I've got good news," he said at last, "and bad news."
Ahsan's breath hitched. "Let me guess. Bad first?"
"The corruption has spread further into your body."
Ahsan's shoulders stiffened.
"But," AZ continued calmly, "more cracks have formed."
Ahsan exhaled shakily. "So... it's working?"
"Yes," AZ said. "Slowly, but surely."
Relief washed over Ahsan. "Then what do we do next?"
AZ straightened up. "Today, I teach you Revert."
Ahsan's eyes widened. "For real?"
AZ nodded. "Revert is fueled by the soul. Every time you use it, a small part of your soul decays. But the soul regenerates—slowly. And when it does, it heals the corrupted parts of your body along with it."
"So I'm damaging myself... to heal myself?" Ahsan asked.
"In a controlled way," AZ replied. "Much better than letting the corruption spread freely."
Ahsan swallowed. "Okay. How do we start?"
AZ glanced around the room. "How long have you lived here?"
Ahsan blinked. "Since I was a kid. As long as I can remember."
AZ raised an eyebrow. "Perfect. That makes this easier. Close your eyes."
Ahsan did.
"Picture your room," AZ instructed. "Draw it in your mind. Every wall, every corner. Like chalk on a blackboard."
The image formed effortlessly. His desk. His bed. The window. Every scratch on the wall.
"Good," AZ said. "Now focus on the mug on your table."
Ahsan did.
"Move it. Not with your hands. With your will."
He concentrated. At first—nothing.
Then he heard it.
A faint scrape.
His eyes flew open. The mug had shifted. Barely.
"Did it—?" he asked.
AZ nodded. "About a millimeter."
Ahsan stared at the mug, heart pounding.
"That's it?" he asked.
AZ smirked. "That's everything. Baby steps."
Ahsan smiled despite himself. It wasn't much.
But it was proof.
And for the first time in days, hope didn't feel fragile.
AZ suddenly straightened, as if a switch had been flipped.
"Enough resting," he said. "We're going on a mission."
Ahsan blinked. "Now?"
AZ was already reaching for his jacket.
"But—how?" Ahsan protested. "My mom is right outside. We can't just disappear. And where are we even going?"
AZ glanced back at him, smiling faintly. "Faridpur."
Ahsan's eyes widened. "Faridpur? That's—what—almost a hundred kilometers away! Have you completely lost your mind?"
Without answering, AZ reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue sphere.
Ahsan stared at it. The ball shimmered faintly, its surface smooth and glass-like. Inside, something black writhed slowly, as if alive.
"...What is that?" Ahsan asked cautiously.
"A Gate," AZ replied. "The beginning of one, at least. The exit is in Faridpur."
Ahsan looked at the sphere, then back at AZ. "And how exactly did the other end get there?"
AZ's smile widened just a little. "Noi sent it."
Ahsan froze. "Noi? How did she even—"
"You'll understand someday," AZ interrupted calmly. "For now, just know this—she isn't exactly human."
Ahsan swallowed and chose not to ask further.
AZ placed the blue sphere on the floor and crushed it beneath his foot.
The ball shattered soundlessly. Space itself folded inward, tearing open into a small, swirling portal.
Ahsan stared. "Okay... that's actually insane."
AZ stepped into the portal without hesitation.
Ahsan followed.
In an instant, the world shifted.
They emerged into open land—trees stretching in every direction, bushes rustling under the evening breeze, the air thick with the scent of soil and leaves.
"Welcome to Faridpur," AZ said casually. "Now we find the house."
Ahsan pulled out his phone. No signal.
"...Great," he muttered. "So how exactly are we supposed to find anything out here?"
He looked up to see AZ casually checking his phone.
With full signal.
Ahsan stared. "How do you have a network?"
AZ didn't even look up. "Starlink."
Ahsan's jaw dropped. Just how much does this guy earn?
Before he could ask, AZ slipped his phone away and started walking.
"Hey—wait!" Ahsan called, hurrying after him.
And just like that, the mission had begun.
After ten minutes of walking, they reached their destination.
A man sat outside the house, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His face was deathly pale—fear, exhaustion, and helplessness carved deep into his expression. The moment he noticed the two men approaching, he stood up hurriedly and clasped their hands as if afraid they might disappear.
"Thank you for coming so quickly," he said, his voice trembling. "My name is Kamal. Please... come inside."
The moment AZ stepped into the house, his expression hardened.
A foul odor lingered in the air—subtle, but unmistakable. Rotten. Wrong. It was the kind of smell that didn't belong to sickness alone.
I've dealt with this before, AZ thought.
His eyes scanned the house with quiet precision. Kamal's wife sat silently in a corner, clutching her hands together. His mother whispered prayers under her breath. His younger brother stood stiff, watching them as if clinging to hope itself.
AZ finally spoke. "Who's the victim?"
Kamal didn't answer. He simply gestured and led them toward the last room at the end of the house.
Inside, a small girl lay on the bed.
She couldn't have been more than five.
Her body was frighteningly thin, her skin stretched tight over her bones as if she hadn't eaten properly in a year. Her face was pale—too pale for a living child.
AZ stepped closer. "May I speak with her?"
Kamal nodded, his lips quivering. He gently shook the girl's shoulder.
"Khushi, dear... wake up. These uncles are here to help you."
The girl slowly opened her eyes.
Ahsan's breath caught in his throat.
Her corneas were almost completely red.
Still, she forced a weak smile toward AZ.
"Will... will you two uncles save me?"
AZ placed his hand on her forehead.
Burning.
She had a severe fever.
"Khushi," AZ asked softly, "how long have you been sick?"
"Two... months," she whispered.
AZ examined her skin more closely. It was rough—dry, cracked—and in some places, it looked as if it were slowly rotting from within.
"How do you feel right now?" he asked.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"It feels like... something is eating me... from the inside."
Kamal turned away, his shoulders shaking. He was barely holding himself together. Watching his daughter die slowly was tearing him apart.
"I called everyone I could," Kamal said brokenly. "Some said it was a spirit. Some said it was a normal illness. Some gave medicines, some gave oils, charms—everything! Nothing worked!"
AZ said nothing.
He and Ahsan stepped out of the room.
AZ sat down at the kitchen table and looked at Kamal. "Take us somewhere private. Somewhere no one can hear us."
Kamal led them to a small storeroom at the far end of the yard.
Ahsan finally spoke. "So... what is it? Djinn? Ghost? Possession?"
AZ shook his head. "Not exactly."
Kamal's heart pounded. "Then what?"
"A Djinn was involved," AZ said slowly. "But this isn't its doing."
Kamal swallowed. "Then whose is it?"
AZ's eyes turned cold.
"Black magic."
The words hit Kamal like a blade.
"Someone," AZ continued, "used black magic on your daughter."
Kamal froze. Why would anyone do this to a child? To his child?
"There are two ways to deal with this," AZ said calmly. "First—using a special ointment. Applied every day for an entire month."
"A month?!" Kamal gasped. "She won't survive that long!"
AZ nodded. "I know."
"Which is why there's a second option."
Kamal leaned forward desperately.
"This method will reverse the black magic—sending it back to the caster." AZ paused. "Whoever did this will suffer it completely. There will be no cure. No salvation."
Kamal clenched his fists.
"Are you willing to do that?" AZ asked quietly.
Kamal didn't hesitate."Do it. That bastard deserves to die for touching my little girl."
AZ nodded. "Then we wait for the new moon. Two days from now."
He stood up."Pray that Khushi survives until then. We'll return that night."
Outside, as they walked away, AZ spoke to Ahsan.
"You probably won't be needed. The ritual will be at night."
Ahsan shook his head. "I'm coming."
AZ glanced at him.
"I barely sleep anyway," Ahsan continued bitterly. "Not since my leg got ripped off and replaced with this damn demonic thing."
AZ smiled faintly. "Then I'll call you when it's time."
He crushed the Gate in his hand.
The portal opened.
And the two exorcists disappeared.
Two days later.
At exactly two o'clock in the morning, AZ and Ahsan arrived at Kamal's house.
The village was silent—too silent. Not even insects dared to make a sound.
Kamal stood outside, waiting, his face hollow. The moment he saw them, he rushed forward and grabbed AZ's hand with both of his.
"Khushi's condition has worsened," he said desperately. "She can't speak anymore. Please… you have to save her tonight. No matter what. I beg you."
AZ didn't respond. He simply nodded.
They entered the house.
AZ stopped in front of Khushi's room.
"Ahsan," he said calmly. "Blindfold."
Without hesitation, Ahsan took out the black cloth and wrapped it tightly around AZ's eyes.
AZ exhaled slowly.
Then, he focused.
Using the principles of Revert, he began reconstructing the house inside his mind.
Walls appeared first.
Rooms followed.
Furniture, corners, doors—every detail etched itself like chalk on a blackboard.
And then—
A black flame.
It burned unnaturally bright inside his mental image, pulsing like a living thing.
"There," AZ said. "Found it."
He followed the flame to its source.
"Under the table," he said flatly. "Move it."
Ahsan and Kamal carefully dragged the small table out of the room.
Ahsan handed AZ a hammer and a shovel.
Still blindfolded, AZ brought the hammer down.
Crack.
Tiles shattered.
He dug through cement, then soil. The house's foundation was weak—village-built. It didn't take long.
The shovel hit something solid.
AZ knelt and pulled it out.
A box.
He opened it.
Inside lay a severed chicken's head, somehow still intact, its eyes dried open in terror. Beside it was a needle threaded with black string, and a blood-soaked cloth.
AZ removed the blindfold.
"Everything's clear now."
Kamal swallowed hard. "What… what does this mean?"
AZ lifted the box.
"This is classic black magic," he said. "Used specifically against virgin girls."
He pointed to the cloth.
"This contains the victim's menstrual blood."
Then the needle.
"It drains life energy and transfers it into the chicken's head."
Kamal's breath hitched.
"But… Khushi is a child. She hasn't even had her first period. Then whose blood is this?"
AZ nodded slowly.
"Exactly."
He looked Kamal straight in the eyes.
"This spell was cast on a non-virgin woman. When that happens, the magic redirects itself to the nearest virgin girl."
Kamal felt the ground drop beneath him.
"This blood belongs to your wife," AZ continued. "She was the intended target. But the caster didn't know the full rules."
Silence crushed the room.
"So your daughter became the victim instead."
AZ took the box outside and burned it. The fire flared unnaturally dark before finally dying.
He turned back to Kamal.
"Khushi will recover now."
Kamal collapsed to his knees in relief.
"But," AZ added coldly, "in one week, the magic will return to its caster."
He paused.
"It will be a hundred times stronger."
Kamal looked up in horror.
"Even I won't be able to save that person."
Without another word, AZ and Ahsan left the house.
As they walked away, Ahsan finally spoke.
"AZ… who do you think did this?"
AZ didn't slow his pace.
"When I burned the box, the black flame returned to this house."
Ahsan froze.
"So the caster," AZ said quietly, "is still here."
Ahsan's eyes widened in shock.
"A family member did it."
AZ opened the Gate.
They stepped through—and vanished.
Six days later, Khushi was completely normal again.
She laughed.She ran.She played in the yard as if nothing had ever touched her.
Kamal watched her from the doorway, his chest finally able to breathe again. His daughter was back.
Smiling, he went to his mother's room.
"Mother," he said softly, "look at your granddaughter. She's fine now."
The old woman nodded slowly.
Her eyes were wet.
"Kamal dear… I need to tell you something."
Kamal smiled gently."Anything, Mother. What is it?"
She let out a trembling breath.
"I'm the one who cast the black magic."
The words struck him like a blade.
She continued before he could speak.
"I wanted you to marry into a rich household. Instead, you chose Rashida—a barber's daughter. I never accepted her. Not once. Not in six years."
Her voice broke.
"So I went to a tantrik. I asked him to get rid of her. I didn't know… I didn't know it would pass to Khushi."
She cupped Kamal's face with shaking hands.
"I don't deserve forgiveness," she whispered. "I truly don't. But please… don't hate your mother."
Kamal said nothing.
He couldn't.
The next day, the screaming began.
Seven days had passed.
The curse returned.
The mother writhed in agony, her body convulsing as black liquid poured from her mouth. She vomited blood, clawed at her own skin, tearing it open as if trying to escape her own body.
The screams lasted an hour.
Then—silence.
She was dead.
The house filled with mourning cries.
Relatives wept. Neighbors prayed.
But Kamal stood still.
He stared at his mother's lifeless body, his face empty.
He didn't know what to feel.
Relief that his daughter survived.
Rage that his mother had tried to kill her.
Or grief for the woman who raised him.
All three emotions tangled together—too heavy to separate.
So he stood there.
Silent.
And alone.