Borrowing Amor

Chapter 1

On the day of my daughter's one-month birthday party, Justine, with trembling hands, insisted on bestowing a "blessing for a long life" upon the baby. Before I could stop her, she had already breathed heavily onto my baby's face. The baby immediately started crying.

I frowned, quickly taking the baby back into my arms to soothe her. However, all the relatives present criticized me for being ungrateful. Feeling wronged, I vented about the incident online. Among hundreds of comments, one stood out:

"Was the old lady a psychic when she was young?"

I was taken aback by this question. I honestly didn't know. Justine was over ninety years old, still healthy, and preferred living alone in the countryside. I didn't interact with her much. My anger stemmed from her lack of hygiene; after all, the baby had just turned one month old and had a weak immune system. But this user named "Christopher" immediately asked if Justine was a psychic, implying some superstitious nonsense to scare people. It seemed absurd.

Christopher then replied, "The picture you posted was taken at home, right? The balcony is filled with thick black air, heavy with bad energy. Someone must have cast some kind of curse there."

This comment worsened my already bad mood. Before I could type a response, other quick-fingered users had already retorted:

"People nowadays really don't appreciate good intentions. The old lady meant well, wishing for your daughter's longevity, but you misunderstood her."

"Exactly, the old lady might be a bit superstitious, but she meant well. Instead of being grateful, you slander her? Are you going to accuse her of witchcraft next? Ha!"

"I don't think it's that serious. The blogger shouldn't be upset. The old lady is just old and uneducated. At most, she passed some germs or saliva. The baby will be fine, don't worry."

"Haha, all this talk about 'bad energy' and 'curses' is scary. Someone might think I'm reading a fantasy novel."

As I exited the comment section, I glanced at Christopher's profile picture. It was a black-and-white image of an occult symbol. Could he be an occultist?

Curious, I clicked into his profile. There weren't many posts, just some photos of an abbey, videos of creating protective symbols, and a few online shop links. Scrolling further, I found a photo of him in a purple ceremonial robe. He really was an occultist.

But with so many online scammers these days, these things could be photoshopped. Seeing the skeptical comments, Christopher, perhaps feeling embarrassed, replied again:

"Why don't you ask her if she was a psychic? But don't let the old lady know."

I was puzzled. Being a psychic isn't illegal, so why hide it? I asked why.

"The balcony facing south should receive the most good energy, but yours is heavy with bad energy. This is unusual. There must be some kind of curse nearby, and possibly accomplices. Be cautious to avoid alerting them."

Christopher's reply was so bizarre that dozens of comments calling him a scammer quickly appeared. It seemed he was waiting for my answer, as he didn't reply further.

Although I usually didn't believe in such things, I decided to investigate, holding my sleeping baby and heading to the living room.

It was ten o'clock at night. The TV was on, and my in-laws were watching a live broadcast intently. My husband, Brodie, was lounging on the couch, playing with his phone. Justine was nowhere to be seen, likely already asleep due to her age.

I sat next to Leyla, chatting casually, waiting for the right moment to ask, "Mom, what did Justine do when she was younger? It's surprising she knows about the blessing for a long life."

Leyla, still watching TV, replied absentmindedly, "I heard she used to help people who were affected by a curse in the village. She was probably a local healer or a psychic. Ask your dad; he knows better."

I was stunned. "She really was a psychic!"