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Ethan had always been a reliable employee at the firm. He kept to himself, did his job meticulously, and avoided office gossip. That’s why it came as such a shock when he was summoned to HR one dreary Monday morning. “Mr. Harlow, there have been serious allegations against you,” said Ms. Turner, the HR manager, her eyes stern behind her glasses. Ethan’s heart skipped a beat. “Allegations? What kind?” “Several employees have reported that you’ve been spreading malicious rumors about Mr. Johnson,” she explained, referring to their boss, a man known for his fiery temper and ruthless business tactics. Ethan was dumbfounded. “There must be a mistake. I’ve never said a word against Mr. Johnson.” Ms. Turner studied him for a moment, then sighed. “Regardless, these accusations are serious. We’ll have to investigate. In the meantime, you’re suspended.” Ethan left the office in a daze. Who would accuse him of such a thing? As he walked to his car, he noticed several colleagues giving him suspicious looks. Panic gnawed at his insides. His career, his reputation—everything was at stake. Over the next few days, Ethan’s life became a nightmare. Friends and colleagues avoided him, whispers followed him wherever he went. He felt like a ghost, shunned and unseen, except for the accusatory stares. He couldn’t understand why this was happening. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Desperate, he decided to find out who was behind the rumors. He started by asking his closest friend at work, Jamie. “Jamie, you know I didn’t start those rumors, right?” Ethan asked when he managed to corner him in the parking lot after work. Jamie looked uncomfortable. “I know, man, but people are saying it’s you. Someone even claimed they heard you talking about it in the break room.” Ethan’s frustration grew. “But I wasn’t there! Someone’s setting me up!” Jamie shrugged, clearly wanting to end the conversation. “I don’t know, Ethan. Maybe you should just lay low until this blows over.” Determined to clear his name, Ethan began investigating. He spent hours outside the office, trailing his colleagues, hoping to catch a clue, a slip-up, anything that could prove his innocence. One night, as he was parked outside the office, he saw something unusual. Mr. Johnson was leaving late, but he wasn’t alone. He was with Ms. Turner. Ethan watched as they got into Mr. Johnson’s car and drove off. A suspicion began to form in his mind. He decided to follow them. They drove to a remote part of town, stopping at an old, abandoned warehouse. Ethan parked at a safe distance and watched as they disappeared inside. Curiosity and fear waged a battle inside him, but he had to know what was going on. He quietly approached the warehouse and found a side door slightly ajar. Stepping inside, he was engulfed in darkness. The air was thick with a strange, musty smell. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he heard voices. He crept closer, staying in the shadows. Through a crack in a door, he saw a room lit by flickering candles. In the center stood Mr. Johnson and Ms. Turner, along with several other senior employees. They were chanting in a language Ethan didn’t understand, surrounding a crude altar. On the altar lay a photograph of Ethan, with red paint smeared across it. His blood ran cold as he realized they were performing some kind of ritual. The chanting grew louder, more frenzied. Ethan watched in horror as Mr. Johnson took a knife and sliced his palm, letting the blood drip onto the photo. “Let this offering silence our enemy,” Mr. Johnson intoned. “Let Ethan Harlow be cast out, his name tarnished, his spirit broken.” Ethan stumbled back, his mind reeling. This wasn’t just a smear campaign—it was something much darker. He turned to leave, but knocked over a metal can, the clatter echoing through the warehouse. The chanting stopped abruptly. “Who’s there?” Mr. Johnson’s voice was sharp, filled with menace. Ethan bolted for the door, his heart pounding. He could hear footsteps behind him, but he didn’t look back. He ran until he reached his car, fumbling with the keys. He managed to get in and drove off, the warehouse shrinking in his rearview mirror. He knew he couldn’t go to the police—they’d never believe him. He had no proof, just his word against the word of powerful people in the firm. As he drove, an idea formed in his mind. He’d gather evidence, expose them for what they truly were. But as the days went by, Ethan began to feel a change within him. He’d wake up with strange marks on his body, symbols etched into his skin that he couldn’t explain. Nightmares plagued him, visions of dark rituals and chanting figures. One evening, as he was poring over his notes, trying to make sense of it all, he felt an overwhelming sense of dread. His reflection in the window seemed to move independently, grinning at him with malice. The symbols on his skin burned, and he realized with a chilling certainty that the ritual had worked—he was being cursed, slowly losing his mind. In his final moments of clarity, Ethan recorded everything he knew, hoping someone would find it, someone who could stop them. But as the darkness closed in, he understood the true horror: they hadn’t just ruined his reputation; they had claimed his soul. And there, in the dim light of his apartment, Ethan laughed, a cold, hollow sound, as he embraced the madness that had consumed him.