The morning was quiet, but the whispers were loud.
As Prita walked through the narrow street toward her college, every pair of eyes followed her.
"There she is," someone muttered. "The witch girl."
"She looks normal… but who knows who she'll curse next?"
Prita kept her gaze low, pretending not to hear. She was used to it — the stares, the rumors, the way people stepped aside when she passed. Ever since the mysterious death of her family, she had lived as an outcast.
A warm voice broke through the silence.
"Hey, Prita!"
She turned to see Henre, her only friend. The sight of him made her smile — a real one this time.
"I'm good," she said softly.
"Don't let them get to you," Henre said, walking beside her. "They're just jealous. You're smart, hardworking, and beautiful. That's enough reason for them to hate you."
Prita laughed faintly. After my family was gone, Henre was the only one who stayed. For ten years, he's been the only person who never turned away.
That night, far across the city, a scream echoed through the dark.
A thief had broken into a house, stealing jewelry and cash. But when the family awoke, he panicked. A gunshot rang out, killing the man who tried to stop him.
By morning, the police arrived, but the thief had vanished. A young man from the neighborhood — calm and kind — had called the police and comforted the widow.
He was the only one who tried to help.
But strange things began happening soon after.
People claimed to see a hair-covered creature wandering the streets at night — as tall as a man, its body buried under layers of thick, black hair.
It moved like a wild animal, growling in the shadows.
Those who saw it said they felt an overwhelming sense of dread.
Then the attacks began.
By morning, newspapers carried headlines filled with fear:
"Hair Men Sighted Again."
"Monster Kills Three in Night Attack."
No one knew what was happening. But everyone had a theory. Some said it was a curse. Others said it was divine punishment.
Days passed. Henre stopped coming to college.
Prita grew restless and worried. She called him several times before he finally answered.
"Hey, are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine," Henre's voice came through, weak and distant. "Just feeling a bit sick. Don't worry about me."
Relieved, she hung up. But later that night, screams filled the streets.
"Hair man! It's a hair man!" someone shouted.
Prita ran to her window. What she saw froze her blood — a human-shaped creature covered in tangled hair, attacking a man in the street. Police fired bullets, and it finally fell to the ground.
When the officers pulled away the hair from its face, people gasped.
It was the same man who had helped the widow the night of the robbery.
Prita's heart sank. He was good… kind… how could this happen to him?
Soon, the curse spread.
More and more people were transforming — some criminals, others completely innocent.
The government issued an order:
"If you see a Hair Man, shoot on sight."
One evening, unable to shake her fear, Prita went to Henre's house.
The door was unlocked. The lights were dim.
Inside, the air was heavy with silence — and something else.
As she stepped forward, she noticed long strands of black hair on the floor. They trailed toward a closed door — the only room Henre had ever forbidden her from entering.
Her hands trembled as she turned the handle.
Inside, shelves lined the walls, each one holding glass jars filled with hearts.
Each jar had a name written on it.
Fisca — her mother.
Penta — her father.
Koska — her little brother.
Even her dog's name was there.
The phone in her hand buzzed suddenly. A message from the government alert system flashed on the screen:
> "We have discovered the source of the Hair Curse.
Every infected individual has been linked to a crime they committed in the past.
The body reacts to guilt, growing hair as a mark of sin.
Their transformation is irreversible. Report any suspicious individual immediately."
The phone slipped from her fingers.
Henre… it's you.
She turned — and there he was.
Standing in the doorway, his body half-human, half-monster, his eyes burning through the dark.
"Prita…" he growled, his voice twisted and broken. "Why did you come here?"
Prita stumbled backward, fear choking her. She turned on her phone's flashlight, shining it into his eyes, and ran.
"Prita!" Henre roared, chasing her into the night.
A neighbor tried to help her, but Henre lunged forward, striking the woman down with a single blow. Prita screamed and kept running, tears blurring her vision.
Henre's mind flickered between love and madness — his memories returning in fragments.
He saw her smile, heard her laughter, remembered his promise to protect her.
Then he remembered what he had done — killing everyone close to her so that only he could have her.
He reached out toward her, his claws shaking.
"Prita… I love you…"
A truck's headlights flashed. The sound of impact shattered the silence.
Henre's body flew off the bridge, crashing into the dark river below.
Prita stood trembling on the roadside, her face wet with tears.
She walked to the edge and looked down. The water rippled, black and endless.
The monster was gone.
But the curse was not.
Days later, new reports filled the airwaves.
Sightings of Hair Men continued to rise.
The government repeated its warning:
"If you see one, shoot immediately."
The curse was far from over.