Vivian had always known how to work a room. As a hostess at one of Kuala Lumpur’s most exclusive KTV clubs, she had perfected the art of enchanting men with her beguiling smile and mesmerising eyes. On a humid, moonlit night, she met him—David Lim, a wealthy businessman with a charming demeanour and an air of confidence that was impossible to ignore.

Vivian could see the hunger in David's eyes as he watched her perform. He was surrounded by a group of friends, laughing and toasting, but his eyes rarely left her. She wasted no time in making her move. After her set, she approached his table, their eyes locking in a silent agreement.

“Hello there,” she said with a coy smile. “I couldn’t help but notice you enjoying the show.”

David smiled, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You’re quite the performer. Can I buy you a drink?”

Drinks flowed, laughter echoed, and by the end of the night, David was smitten. They exchanged numbers, and from that night on, David made it a point to visit the club whenever he could. Vivian, in turn, ensured she was always available, her heart fluttering with anticipation each time she saw him walk through the door.

It didn’t take long for David to suggest they continue their rendezvous in a more private setting. Within a week, he had rented a luxurious condominium for Vivian in Bukit Bintang, near the KTV club where Vivian worked. The condominium was a place of splendour and extravagance, with high ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a balcony that offered a stunning view of Kuala Lumpur’s skyline.

Vivian revelled in the opulence. She ran her fingers over the marble countertops, luxuriated in the feel of silk sheets against her skin, and inhaled the scent of fresh flowers that David had delivered daily. It was a dream come true, a world of luxury and comfort far removed from her modest upbringing.

David visited often, showering her with expensive gifts and whispered promises, and she stopped working at the KTV as he provided her with a monthly allowance. He would arrive late in the evening, bringing fine wine and gourmet food. They would dine by candlelight, their conversations flowing easily as they shared their lives. Vivian learned about his business, his travels, his hopes, and his frustrations. David, in turn, listened to her stories, captivated by her wit and charm.

Yet, for all his affection, Vivian knew there was a shadow hanging over their bliss—his wife, Emily. Emily was nothing like Vivian. She was plump, kind, and had an air of quiet dignity. She was the one David had married out of duty, not desire. Whenever David spoke of Emily, his tone softened, and a look of guilt flickered across his face.

Vivian’s heart burned with jealousy. She wanted more than just stolen moments and secret trysts. She wanted David all to herself. One night, as she lay in his arms, she asked about Emily. David’s face softened as he spoke of his wife, and Vivian felt the pang of envy grow stronger.

“She’s a good woman,” David said, staring up at the ceiling. “She’s been with me through thick and thin. But...”

“But what?” Vivian pressed, her heart pounding.

David sighed. “She’s not you, Vivian. There’s a spark between us that I’ve never felt before. But leaving her... it’s complicated.”

Determined to win David’s heart completely, Vivian sought advice from her friends. It was over a late-night gathering, shrouded in cigarette smoke and dim lighting, that she first heard about Nasi Kang Kang—a potent love spell that involved a ritual with cooked rice. It was said to bind a man’s heart to a woman forever, but the ritual was not without its risks.

Desperation drove Vivian to a bomoh, a local shaman known for her powerful but dangerous spells. The bomoh’s small, dimly lit shop was filled with the scent of incense and the sound of soft chanting. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with jars of herbs, oils, and mysterious ingredients.

The bomoh’s eyes were dark and knowing as she listened to Vivian’s request. “Nasi Kang Kang is powerful magic,” she warned. “It will bind him to you, but the consequences can be dire. Are you willing to pay the price?”

Vivian hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear creeping into her heart.

The bomoh gave her detailed instructions and a stern warning. “Once the ritual is done, there is no turning back.”

That night, with trembling hands, Vivian prepared the rice, performing the ritual exactly as instructed. She sat over the steaming pot, allowing the rice to absorb her essence, chanting the incantations the bomoh had taught her. She felt a strange energy in the air, a sense of foreboding that she pushed aside. She served the enchanted rice to David the next time he visited, watching with bated breath as he ate.

David didn’t notice anything unusual about the rice. He ate with his usual gusto, praising Vivian’s cooking and showering her with compliments. As the night went on, he became more affectionate, more attentive. Vivian felt a thrill of triumph. The spell was working.

At first, the change was subtle. David became more attentive, more affectionate. He began spending more time at the condominium, less time at home. Vivian basked in the glow of his love, convinced that the spell had worked perfectly.

But soon, things took a darker turn. David’s behaviour became erratic. He started having violent mood swings, moments of intense anger followed by bouts of deep depression. Vivian was frightened by the change in him but couldn’t bring herself to believe it was the spell.

David’s mental state deteriorated rapidly. His once clear eyes became shadowed with suspicion and paranoia. He would stay up late, pacing the floors of the condominium, muttering under his breath. He became convinced that Emily was plotting against him, that she knew about his affair and was seeking revenge by taking over his business.

“David, it’s just your imagination,” Vivian would say, trying to soothe him. “Emily has no idea. You need to calm down.”

But David was beyond reason. “You don’t understand, Vivian. She’s always watching, always plotting. I can feel it.”

He started seeing things that weren’t there, hearing voices that whispered in his ear. In the middle of the night, he would wake up in a cold sweat, convinced that shadows were creeping across the walls, that unseen figures were lurking in the corners of the room.

One evening, as they sat together on the balcony, David suddenly grabbed Vivian’s arm, his grip tight and desperate. “Do you hear that?” he whispered, his eyes wide with fear.

“Hear what, David?” Vivian asked, her heart pounding.

“The whispers. They’re everywhere. They won’t stop. They’re telling me things, terrible things.”

Vivian tried to calm him, to soothe his fears, but nothing seemed to help. David’s paranoia grew worse, his behaviour more erratic. He stopped going to work, convinced that his workers were in on the conspiracy. He refused to see friends, fearing they were spying on him.

One night, in a fit of rage, David confronted Emily. He had spent the entire day brooding, his mind a whirlwind of dark thoughts. By the time he arrived home, he was seething with anger, his hands trembling with barely controlled fury.

Emily was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She looked up as David stormed in, her face lighting up with a warm smile. “David, you’re home early. I made your favourite—”

“Enough!” David roared, his voice echoing through the house. “Stop pretending, Emily. I know what you’re up to.”

Emily’s smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion and concern. “David, what are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me!” David shouted, his eyes wild. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been spying on me, plotting against me. You think I don’t see what’s going on?”

Emily took a step back, her hands shaking. “David, please, you’re scaring me. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Liar!” David screamed, grabbing a vase and hurling it at Emily. Emily dodged and it shattered against the wall, pieces of glass scattering across the floor. “You’ve been watching me, listening to my conversations. You and your friends, you’re all in on it!”

The confrontation was explosive, with David shouting and breaking things, his eyes wild with madness. Emily, terrified and confused, called for help. The authorities arrived and restrained David, taking him to a psychiatric hospital, his mind shattered.

Vivian was left alone in the condominium, her dreams of a life with David in ruins. The bomoh’s warning echoed in her mind, and she realised too late the true cost of her desire. She tried to visit David, but he didn’t recognise her. He was lost in a world of his own, mumbling incoherently about shadows and whispers.

As the weeks passed, Vivian began to notice strange things happening around the condominium. It started with small, almost imperceptible events. At night, she would hear faint whispers, just on the edge of her hearing. Sometimes, they sounded like David, calling her name. Other times, they were unintelligible, a murmur of many voices speaking at once. She would sit up in bed, straining to catch the words, but they always eluded her.

The whispers were followed by fleeting shadows. Vivian would catch glimpses of them out of the corner of her eye—dark shapes moving swiftly across the walls, disappearing before she could fully register them. At first, she dismissed them as tricks of the light, the product of her frayed nerves. But as the shadows grew bolder, more distinct, she couldn’t ignore them.

The air in the condominium grew thick with an oppressive energy, a heavy, suffocating presence that made it hard to breathe. It was as if the very walls were closing in on her. She felt a constant sense of being watched, an unshakeable feeling that eyes were following her every move. During the day, she could sometimes brush it off, but at night, the feeling intensified, becoming almost unbearable.

One evening, as she was preparing dinner, Vivian felt a cold draft brush against her skin. She turned, expecting to see an open window, but everything was shut tight. The temperature in the room seemed to drop suddenly, and she could see her breath misting in the air. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make out the words.

Desperate for answers, Vivian revisited the bomoh. The shop seemed darker and more foreboding than before, the air thick with incense and the shadows deeper. The bomoh’s expression was grave as she listened to Vivian’s account.

“You have opened a door that should have remained closed,” the bomoh said, her voice filled with a mix of pity and sternness. “The spirits are restless. They are drawn to the energy of the spell. You must be careful. Their presence will only grow stronger.”

Vivian returned to the condominium with a sense of dread, the bomoh’s words echoing in her mind. She tried to follow the bomoh’s advice, burning incense and placing protective charms around the apartment, but the oppressive presence only seemed to grow.

One night, the whispers reached a fever pitch, and the shadows seemed to close in around her. Vivian was sitting in the living room, trying to read, but the words on the page blurred as the whispers grew louder, filling her head. The shadows danced at the edges of her vision, growing bolder, more solid.

In her final moment of sanity, Vivian realised the true horror of what she had done. The spell had bound her to David, but in doing so, it had condemned them both to a living nightmare. She stumbled into the kitchen, her mind racing, and found the pot she had used for the ritual. The sight of it sent a chill down her spine. In a fit of desperation, she smashed it to pieces, hoping to break the spell.

But it was too late. The whispers grew louder, the shadows closer. Vivian felt a cold hand on her shoulder, and when she turned, there was nothing there. The oppressive energy pressed in on her, suffocating her, driving her to the brink of madness.

The next morning, the police were called to the condominium complex by concerned neighbours who had heard unsettling noises throughout the night. They found Vivian by the edge of the pool, her body curled into a tight ball, shivering despite the warm morning sun. Her eyes were wide with terror, darting around as if she were seeing things no one else could. She mumbled incoherently about shadows and whispers, her voice a hushed, frantic whisper that sent chills down the spines of the officers.

It took some time for the police to coax Vivian out of her petrified state. She seemed lost in her own world, barely responsive to their questions. Her once-vibrant eyes now held a vacant, haunted look. She was unable to form coherent sentences, repeating the same phrases about unseen figures and ghostly voices. The officers exchanged uneasy glances, realising that something was profoundly wrong.

Realising that she needed immediate medical attention, they gently guided her into the ambulance, her body trembling with fear. The paramedics tried to soothe her, but she remained trapped in her nightmarish visions. Vivian was taken to the same psychiatric hospital where David had been committed, her mind shattered and broken, a tragic victim of the dark forces she had unwittingly unleashed.