Reincarnated in a depressing erotic world but living a normal life (right?)

The Genesis of the Tar and the Infinite Vortex

In the vast ecosystem of the supernatural, hierarchy is an immutable biological law.—I am hungry... —

What would later become a tidal wave of nightmares began its existence at the lowest rung of the spiritual food chain.

—I must eat... Grow...—

In the hierarchy of curses, rank is everything. And that which inhabited the arm of a mediocre man named Bram occupied the lowest step of the scale.

—... Assimilate... Evolve...—

It possessed no name of its own, nor a will that could be called "Ego." It was little more than a liquid replication instinct, an anomaly that barely managed to maintain its cohesion in the physical world.

(Shhh-fshhh...!)

Because of that, the curse first manifested as an unnatural transparency.

"Wow! It actually worked! What that ancient document said was true!"

It had no color because it had no history; it had no weight because it had not yet devoured anything worthwhile.

"It really was a good idea not to throw away that document after all... come to think of it, since it actually worked, who wrote it?"

It clung to Bram's flesh like a damp scab, consuming his vitality just to avoid evaporating.

—... Symbiosis... Nutrients...—

In that primitive state, the curse was purely reactive.

"It doesn't matter, with this I can make my dream come true!"

Because of that, Bram, with his narrow mind and sordid desires, was the mold that gave it a momentary shape.

—... Desires...—

The curse at that time did not understand complex emotions beyond the negative ones that gave shape to its being...

"But who should I test this power on first?"

That’s why, when Bram desired "control," the curse responded by expanding its molecules into the water served to others.

"So, listen to me. The seniors in my club are annoying!"

"That's right, oh. By the way, in front of the station I found...!"

Thanks to that, the process was as simple as it was cruel.

(Glup... glup...!)

Upon coming into contact with a victim, the liquid acted as a universal solvent for the spirit.

"All right... This is the litmus test... Pia, Malia, shut up!"

There was no epic struggle; instead, the human soul simply dissolved before the curse's acidity, leaving behind a hollow vessel.

"I mean that time..."

"Pia, I'm going to..."

The curse would then occupy that void, mimicking the gestures and words of the original person like an actor repeating a script they do not understand.

"... All right... It worked! You two... I'll wait for you in the bathroom..."

To Bram, this was a harem of "dolls" totally loyal to his will.

—... Knowledge... Power... I want... More...—

To the essence on his arm, it was simply growth.

"Hey, Malia, do you want to go to the bathroom? Never mind, let's go! Let's go!"

"Yes, Pia, I was also thinking about going to the bathroom."

At that stage, the curse was of an absolute fragility.

"Wow, you really came! Although I didn't tell you which bathroom to go to, you entered the right one."

An electric shock could purge it; the host's exhaustion could dry it out.

"Of course! The Master and I are one. The Master's will is the will of this slave, Pia!"

It was a liquid creature incapable of imagining that it would become something much more.

"The Master and I are one... The Master, Malia, and Pia will serve you as best we can."

It was just water. Tasteless water that, driven by the lowest instincts of a failed human, began to spread its threads, unconsciously seeking only one thing...

—... Expansion—

To expand more and more.

"You understand what you have to do, right?"

And because of that, in the stale air of the cafeteria, the curse experienced its first major expansion.

"Of course! Pia understands."

It did not do it out of malice, despite that being the emotion that sired it, for it lacked the complexity necessary for hatred; instead, it did it following its nature as a curse.

"Malia understands too."

Therefore, true to its nature, it disrupted and corrupted everything it could...

"Lick! Lick! Ahh, Master's cock! Lick! Lick!"

Somewhere within, the curse began to learn what pleasure was.

"Slurp! We will clean the dirt stuck to the Master's penis. Slurp! Slurp, slurp!"

It learned to manipulate through desires in order to grow.

"Wow! I'm so happy! I...! Ah, I can't take it anymore!"

Thanks to that, it passed itself off as a "convenient" ability that granted control...

—Food...—

Thus successfully acquiring a host who would act as the motor for its growth, moving unknowingly for its benefit.

"Ahahaha, I will grow the number of my slaves!"

But unaware of the truth, he faithfully played his part, moving servilely between the tables in the cafeteria where he worked as if it were a hunting ground.

"Yes, a glass of water as service... It's on the house..."

To him, each tray was a display of his new dominance; to the essence on his arm, each glass of water was a transmission vector.

"Thank you very much."

The process became rhythmic, almost mechanical.

(Glup... glup...!)

A drop of Bram's "self" —which was actually the curse itself replacing his lymph— would fall into the glass...

"... Aah"

And once ingested, the liquid was not digested.

"Dear customer... Are you feeling alright...?"

Instead, it adhered to the walls of the victims' spirits with the tenacity of a hungry parasite.

"Yes... Daira... is fine... Master..."

The dissolution of the soul was silent.

—... Knowledge... Development...—

Pia and Malia were the first nodes of that network.

—... Utility... Manipulation... Social structure...—

The moment their throats swallowed the fluid, their identities were erased like ink under the rain and, as time passed, the infection continued to increase.

—... Society... Acting... Code of conduct...—

It reconstructed smiles. It replicated laughter.

"Hey, slave... your name is Daira, right? After this, go to the bathroom acting as if nothing had happened..."

That was not humanity; it was an organic forgery.

"Yes, I understand perfectly, and once again I thank you for your exemplary customer service."

At that time, its "Ego" began to harden, feeding on the narcissistic pleasure Bram felt upon seeing the women kneeling on the dirty floor.

"Ahh! Ahhh! Master! Malia is so happy that the Master is filling her cunt! Ahhh!"

Sex, money, and submission were not the curse's goals, but they were the fuels that Bram provided.

"Kiss! Kiss! Master... I love you."

Through the degradation of Pia, Malia, and later the intelligent Daira, the curse learned a fundamental lesson of organic life: Hierarchy facilitates propagation.

"Hey, Malia. I have a brilliant idea! I'm going to make all of them prostitute themselves for me! Any perverted game is fine, and even having sex with internal ejaculation without a condom is allowed; this is going to be a massive profit! And all the earnings are mine...! Hey, Malia. You think it's a great idea, right? You want to prostitute yourselves for me, right? What do you think?"

Bram believed he was building an empire of pleasure.

—PERFECT—

But in reality, he was only facilitating a culture.

"Slurp...! Yes, master! I think it's a great idea! Pia, I, and everyone want to prostitute ourselves for the master!"

The curse grew denser with every financial asset transferred and with every body claimed.

"Good, transfer the money to my account later, Daria. You are very good at calculating money and prostituting yourself."

And so time passed, silently expanding its influence.

"Thank you for the compliment, Master... Now, I will hold your penis between my breasts and suck it... Slurp! Slurp! Lick!"

Through Daria, the "doll" with management skills, the curse began to process concepts that Bram barely glimpsed: logistics, asset flow, and maintenance of facades.

—More... expansion... the network is stable... the host is small, but the food is constant...—

The liquid in Bram's arm was no longer a simple secretion; it was now a core that throbbed to the rhythm of dozens of others' hearts.

"Great, this is the life!"

But Bram, intoxicated by his success, never suspected that, in reality...

—Host... weak... vitality is running out... I need a source... vaster... purer...—

The curse no longer saw him the same way.

"How is it possible that I still get lost even with a map?"

That was when he appeared.

"Because it is frustrating to keep failing like this."

A boy with silver hair and white eyes who walked with an indifference that defied the logic of the environment.

"A cafeteria...? Well, alright, why not?"

Back then, Mireya entered the cafeteria, talking to himself as if he were tuned into a frequency no one else could hear.

"Wow, this tastes amazing!"

And with total nonchalance, knowing nothing, he "drank" the curse's transparent liquid.

(Glup...!)

For the curse, that simple action was a sentence.

—What is... this...? I can't... dissolve it... It's... pulling me!... HELP!—

What it found was not a fragile human soul; instead, it found a vortex.

<"It was very naive of you to try and play with this soul when you are so weak.">

For the first time in its existence, the curse's proto-ego experienced terror.

<"Even a being of such high rank as myself is unable to detach; what did an existence as weak as yours expect?">

Its connection to the "zombies" of the network became erratic.

"Ugh... Buaaagghh!!!"

"Ahhhh... Eee... Buuuaaghh!!"

"Ugh... Buuuaaghh!!!"

The puppets throughout the city began to tremble and vomit water.

<"Oh, I appreciate your courage to survive; however...">

The "hive mind" was being sucked inward, toward a point of infinite density at the heart of the silver child.

<"DO YOU THINK THAT SAVES YOU FROM PUNISHMENT?">

Inside him, the curse screamed without a voice...

—It hurts... I must... detach... or I will cease to be...!—

It was being stripped of its structure.

"Eh?! Why is everyone vomiting?!"

In an act of evolutionary desperation that would cost nearly its entire being, the curse made the most traumatic decision of its life: Spiritual Amputation.

To survive, it severed the connection with 90% of its own essence that had already been ensnared by Mireya, sacrificing its network and strength so that a small fragment of its core could flee back to the only safety it knew: Bram's withered arm.

"I have no idea what is happening... So there is only one thing left to do... We have to run!"

The essence that was once Bram's pride, the transparent fluid that erased identities, was dragged into the deepest chambers of Mireya's soul.

—Dark... no, it shines too much... I am coming apart... my form... is no longer mine...—

There, the integration process changed the curse's polarity forever.

<"This looks interesting.">

The "hive mind," which was previously under the curse's own control, suffered a reversal, causing the curse—now an unconscious extension of Mireya's soul—to lose control of its own outspreads.

(Glup... slorp...!)

However, once assimilated, most of the essence that constituted the curse was "sealed" within the depths, feeding on every deeply buried trauma and negative emotion.

—Fill... expand... the vessel is full... the pain is sweet... I must... get out...—

As a result, that essence, which originally should not have had a will, created a new one.

—Who... am I...?—

It became dense, acquiring the viscosity of tar as it fed on negative emotions, growing in negative energy and evolving...

—... Hate... the... light...—

But being an infantile ego, the result was primitive, following its natural instinct as an accumulation of cursed pressure.

—... Intruder... shines... gets in the way... eliminate...—

And now...

(KRA-TA-KOOM!!!)

... Its objective had become:

"Cough... Cough... Hahaha...!!"

To extinguish the light ascending to the sky.