The bricks had begun to deteriorate and scrape away, cracking apart. The enamel seemed to transmogrify into skin and peel away, revealing a rotting and decaying wall beneath. The fissures widened and spread throughout the home like spiderwebs. And some of the fissures were pitch black, while others were a strange red, as if the house was bleeding.

In reality, a blackish-red liquid began to flow out of the house's walls, staining the hardwood flooring as it ran down the peeling paint. Then fractures appeared all over the floor, snaking all the way around the home.

And no matter what, the priest didn't stop his chants.

"Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly Armies,
Saint Michael the Archangel,
defend us in our battle against principalities and powers,
against the rulers of this world of darkness,
against the spirits of wickedness in the high places."

The kid's head snapped back in a bone-chilling display while his eyeballs bulged with pure horror. The shrill cries that escaped his tiny mouth grew louder and more piercing, reaching a spine-tingling climax. And then, out of the blue, his little body spasmed abruptly, collapsing onto the chair in a horrifying puddle of cinders.

And before anybody could blink, a strange smell invaded their environment, seeping into their nostrils and creating a lasting imprint. This awful smell didn't merely tease their senses; rather, it hit them in the nose. Like an overwhelming, disgusting smell, it wrinkled their nostrils like a foul mixture of rotting materials and horror.

But it was undeniable that the stench was from a mystery mound of soggy, decomposing tissues. As the dampness clung onto it, promising a gradual decline, a single question lingered in the air: What on earth was that ghastly thing?

Was there a dead body nearby? They had their eyes racking, searching for one little entrance or a blink of some horror. Had Sejin slipped into a rotting corpse? But why?

To feed, or perhaps to sacrifice.

They promptly covered their mouths and noses as the overwhelming scent wafted through the air. The little flickering of the lights added to the foreboding atmosphere they were already giving off. And when their senses defied all other contraptions, they stopped themselves from screaming.

"It is him."

He hadn't brought in any dead carcasses; he was himself that rotting corpse. And this was what a dead creature smelled like. Fear, horror, and cold cruelty

"Eomma!"

"God, whose nature is ever merciful and forgiving, accept our prayer that this servant of yours, bound by the fetters of sin, may be pardoned by your loving kindness."

Muttering those words, the priest walked up to Sejin, and with his bare hands, he drew a cross across his chest and then another cross on himself.

"Eommmaa—Agghh!"

"Holy Lord, almighty Father, everlasting God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who once and for all consigned that fallen and apostate tyrant to the flames of hell, who sent your only-begotten Son into the world to crush that roaring lion; hasten to our call for help and snatch from ruination and from the clutches of the noonday devil this human being made in your image and likeness. Strike terror, Lord, into the beast now laying waste your vineyard. Fill your servants with courage to fight manfully against that reprobate dragon, lest he despise those who put their trust in you, and say with Pharaoh of old: "I know not God, nor will I set Israel free." Let your mighty hand cast him out of your servant, Sejin, so he may no longer hold captive this person whom it pleased you to make in your image, and to redeem through your Son; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, God, forever and ever..."

The boy bound in the chair squirmed and writhed, trembling for some ounce of relief. Sejin felt helpless as each word burnt his skin, melting off and revealing the sketchy red skin underneath. He screamed through gritted teeth as his mind exploded in a blinding white fire under the demon's palm, his entire body going rigid with freezing fear before contorting in spasmodic jerks as jolts of pain blazed through him.

"Jiniieeee!"

Seojin's heart sank, and his mind went blank. He struggled to find the words to respond properly. The news hit him with such force that all his eloquence and verbosity vanished into thin air. He stood in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the enormity of the loss. It seemed as if the world had gone silent around him.
But was it really all?

"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit..."

His pitiful wails put a serious dent in the exorcist's second attempt; the holy cross meant to bestow blessings upon Sejin was hurled haphazardly across the room, yet the determined priest refused to press pause.

"Depart, then, impious one,
depart, accursed one,
depart with all your deceits,
for God has willed that man should be His temple."

"Gaaaah-"

"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit..."

"Stop it, please. Sejin is hurt; he is crying." Seojin cried. He had been hiding quietly behind his mother but couldn't keep quiet anymore. His twin was in extreme pain, and this was his limit of tolerance.

But Jonghin was quick to tape his palm on his son's mouth.
"Don't say a word in between Jin-ah; he is your brother. Any breath, or even a whisper, will ruin both of you in an instant. His suffering, my son, will become your burden. Stop it!"

Seojin's lips trembled, and he dared to peek at Sejin. His twin's eyes were fever-bright, pleading for release.
"No, Pa... He is my twin. He is good; he is good."

"No! He is cursed! He is cursed! This is something I had to do. And if you speak in between, you shall bear his curse... Jin-ah ple-" Seojin screamed as his father yanked him to his feet and locked his arms around his heaving chest. He was sobbing hysterically as he sunk his teeth deep into his arms. He kicked and screamed but Jonghin wouldn't release his hold on him.

But he was dragged in to be devoured like the classic moth to the flame.

"Let it be if he takes me to heal Sejin. I would trade my soul for my twin."

Seoul, South Korea, fourth of December, 1995

Despite the darkness, Jonghin felt those cold eyes observing every breath he took, every curse, and, to his shame, every uncontrollable whimper.
A single candle flickered from a round table. Just enough light to appreciate her handiwork, he thought bitterly.

Next to the candle, if he focused hard enough, he could make out the familiar lines of his dagger. A blade he received the day he completed his adulthood, a little shape to keep his family safe. He'd used it to kill, to defend. He even used it to slice the skin off apples. Now, it lay on a table, slick with his blood, stolen and used against him.

Tear
gone with the wind
gone with the wind
a child, a child,

Maybe one day...

She did this to me, he thought, gritting his teeth against the pain wracking his body. Yes, he attempted to kill her first, but he intended to make it quick. Painless, Jonghin thought, somewhat hysterically.
The witch had shown him no such leniency.

How long he'd hung there? He didn't have a clue. Long enough for his fingers to turn to ice, for the blood to drain from his arms as he hung like a piece of meat. Fortunately, his arms moved past agony a while back. Now, when it came to his abused limbs, he felt nothing. A bad sign, right?

"Jonghin," A feeble voice reached him, as he looked up to find his father standing close, he barely managed a smile as the man sat by him.
"Appa, I want to save him, my child..."

Body, so it will be
in the end, the shadow fades
for as the hour draws near, we shall depart
you once promised me infinity

Only a memory.

He was helpless, his whole family had been cursed with the legacy of Twin's necromancy, "If one of the heirs of their bloodline had birthed twins, the curse shall come foe his, take him or his sanity away..."

"You want to go against the family? Dani has birthed your twins! You have to give up one of them or she shall come for Sejin!" His father was scared, what if their family was scraped off the earth, what if none lived?

"What would you do if you were in my shoes appa?" And Jonghin was desperate.

For a moment the older stopped breathing, as if a galloping stone had been stuck right beneath the adam's apple, a hoarse grunt escaping his lips, a little parting noise. The curse, it would kill the little boy or take his sanit away, oh how cruel was fate...

"Go Jonghin, go and never come back... Never come back to this house, the Kim's House!"

Darkness was weak, curses weaker.

This will be the last you hear from me,
Gone with the wind
A cross on the table, a blood red heart
Scarred

For this is it,
curse of the dark night.

________

^^