They Tattooed Evil on Me. It Came Back for Them.

There was a legend that getting a Hellhound tattoo at midnight would leave you cursed by a black dog. Atlas Jordan's bestie proposed on the spot that we test this legend, then started a vote in a group chat called Fool's Laboratory. The choices were: have Elara Grayson get the Hellhound tattoo, or Briar Marlowe. A thirty-second countdown. Eighteen people. Every single one of them voted for me. Atlas lazily threw his hands up, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Couldn't help it, baby. Majority ruled. You wouldn't disappoint everyone, right?" Someone in the private room whistled, waiting to see me humiliated. My chest ached with bitterness, and I clenched my fists at my sides. This wasn't the first time they had played this game. The first time, Briar heard that getting a Hellhound tattoo was taboo and would result in severe backlash. She made me deliberately eat dog meat, drawing the wrath of a vengeful black dog. My body was covered in coarse black fur, my throat clogged shut. The second time, Briar secretly took me to spit in front of the door of someone who had died a violent death. Then she tricked me into getting a tattoo of the demon Satan. Legend had it that its head blazed with eternal flames, a warning for believers to guard against sin and revere the divine. In the end, Satan didn't save those who died a violent death, and I was devoured and tormented by the wrath of the vengeful dead. The third time, Briar, in my name, lured my biological parents, who had been searching for me, abroad and tortured them for three days and three nights. She said getting a Blue-Scaled Rattlesnake tattoo could save my parents; the Blue-Scaled Rattlesnake represented eternal rebirth. I believed her, but it turned out the tattoo was of Vipernix, a half-human, half-snake entity symbolizing evil and nothingness. That very night, he swallowed my parents whole, leaving not even bones behind. Over these five years, Atlas clearly knew I couldn't comprehend human language, yet he still helped Briar deceive me time and again. Luckily, this time, I understood. Atlas picked up his jacket, wanting to put his arm around me and walk toward the occult tattoo parlor. I shoved his hand aside. "I wasn't playing this time." ***** At 11:47 p.m., a sudden clap of thunder cracked across the sky, and Briar suddenly brought up the Hellhound. She had barely finished, and the room erupted in laughter while I was still trying to figure out what a Hellhound even was. One of Atlas's friends loudly egged her on, urging her to spit it out. Briar lifted her chin at me mockingly, and the two of them tag‑teamed, saying, "Oh, it's no big deal. I just heard that if you tattoo this Hellhound on yourself after midnight and give it a hug, it'll summon a grateful black dog. But if the black dog mistakes you for someone else, at best you'll get a little sick, and at worst... it eats you alive. "I heard it has four blood‑red eyes and a vicious nature! It guards the gates of hell. If Elara here really manages to subdue it, we'll all be blessed. Hurry up and thank our girl Elara~ "Alright, alright! I've said my piece! If anyone's interested, hurry up and vote on who should go this round! "I honestly don't care either way~" Briar casually leaned against Atlas, covering her mouth with a coquettish giggle, while Atlas's buddies played along with her antics. Without thinking, I grabbed Atlas's sleeve, biting my lip hard, eyes red‑rimmed, shaking my head, my heart heavy with unease. The Hellhound sounded terrifying just from the description; anything guarding the gates of hell was bound to be ferocious. I didn't know what Briar was planning to pull this time. And Atlas's next move confirmed my worst fears. He took out his phone. He projected the screen onto the wall. The movie gave way to a chat window, and a group named Fool's Laboratory appeared before everyone. I stared at those words, my lips turning pale, my mind slow to catch up. There was a time when Atlas would have torn into anyone who dared call me a fool. Now he was the one actively using that name. Did that mean he had changed? Briar snickered. "Don't just stand there spacing out. Atlas's about to start the vote. Everyone hurry up and make your choice!" My heart tightened. Atlas lit a cigarette, leaning lazily back against the private booth sofa, his long, knuckly fingers tapping casually on the screen a few times. Atlas: Who gets the Hellhound tattoo tonight? Elara. Briar. Thirty seconds on the clock. The 18 people in the private booth whooped as they pulled out their phones. I heard someone behind me stifling laughter, and someone else urging the person next to them to vote quickly before time ran out. The vote count shot up rapidly. Eight votes. Twelve votes. Sixteen votes. Finally stopping at eighteen. Sure enough, everyone had chosen me. Briar hadn't received a single vote. A tightness gripped my chest, my throat feeling as if filled with iron, yet I didn't know which question I should ask first. Atlas had already reached out to drape his arm over my shoulder, making the decision for me, as usual. "Baby, all eighteen votes are for you. It's rare we all get together like this; don't be a buzzkill now. "How about we get it on your lower back this time? I remember she still has a patch of good skin there." My nails subconsciously dug into my palm, my throat going dry. These past few months, my body had been practically covered in tattoos of all kinds. Atlas always said he'd take me to get them removed next time, yet he had never once actually taken me. Instead, he repeatedly teamed up with Briar to ink one tattoo after another onto my body. This spot on my lower back was where Mom had marked me with a red beauty mark when she came to find me, just so she could recognize me someday. I had carefully protected it for ten years, afraid it would be ruined, afraid that when the time came, Mom wouldn't be able to find me. Atlas knew that. Before I could speak, someone immediately chimed in. "Sure, sure! Then let's do the lower back, hahaha! Haven't seen this little fool's lower back yet." He actually sounded disappointed. Briar replied to him with a light smile, "Why wouldn't we be able to play with it? She can just get a skin graft. Then it'll be good as new, and we can enjoy the show all over again!" Someone joked, "Doesn't that mean Atlas will never get a taste of the prime cut? What a shame." Atlas waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever. As long as you all have fun." Everyone let out knowing "oh"s, looking me up and down. I felt utterly humiliated and furious, yet I couldn't get a word in. They had always been like this. A few of them would tag‑team me, then Atlas would step in to play the good guy. Whenever I hesitated, he would tell me that friends joked around all the time, that I was overthinking things. I used to believe him. After all, I'd never been good at telling when people meant well or not. So much so that when someone called me stupid to my face, I'd go home and ask Atlas if that person was close to me, thinking that's why they'd teased me with a nickname. Atlas would smile and answer me, "Yeah, they only tease you because they like you." I'd heard that line for five years. Now I knew better. I looked up at the Fool's Laboratory on the wall. Who's the experiment? Me? It was ironic, and a bit pathetic. Tears welled up, but I forced them back down. I felt like a clown for everyone to mock, and I was the one who'd given Atlas permission to hurt me. "I'm not going. Whoever suggested it can go instead." I cleared my dry, hoarse throat, my eyes still red. The private booth fell silent for a moment, then several people exchanged glances and burst into laughter. "Atlas, your girl's not listening to you anymore." Briar patted the table, walked up to me, and put her arm around me, scolding me, "Elara, what's wrong with you today? You used to do way worse than this without batting an eye. You aren't fishing for attention, are you?" Atlas looked up at me, displeased. My eyes red, I bit my lower lip tightly, digging my nails into my palm until it bled. The first time, it was a piece of raw, rotten dog meat, blackened and lying on the ground. Back then, Briar had heard that eating dog meat before getting a tattoo of Cerberus could make a black dog recognize you as its master and earn its protection. Cerberus was said to be the hellhound of Greek mythology, with three heads, venom dripping from its jaws, sharp teeth always ready to snap someone's neck, a serpent's tail, and poisonous snakes coiled around its head and back. She picked up a piece and put it in my bowl. I didn't dare eat it. Atlas pressed down hard on my head and forced me to eat it. Afterward, he smiled and coaxed me. "Don't worry, baby, it's fine. I'd take this blessing myself if I could. It's a good thing our baby was born tough enough to survive anything." I was forced to eat it. The next day, my body began growing terrifying black fur, and many snake heads sprouted from my skin. At first, it was only my arms. Later, my back started growing wildly too, covering my entire body, thick and stiff, densely packed across my skin. Drinking water became impossible, and I didn't dare step outside. I was scared to death. It was clearly something horrifying, yet Briar hugged Atlas and laughed, "Holy s**t, it's actually true! There really is a backlash. That's so amazing. This is so interesting!" Atlas teasingly tapped the tip of her nose. "Alright, alright, you've seen it now. Shall we let her go get treated?" My throat was so swollen I couldn't even swallow water. I lay in the hospital for six days. When I opened my eyes, Atlas was beside me. He looked at me with guilt and apologized. The day after I recovered, Briar took me to an old house where someone had died. She forced me to spit at the doorway. When I refused, she pinned my face down and dug her fingers into my mouth, saying the locals all did this to ward off bad luck. That night, she tricked me into getting a tattoo of Lucifer. Lucifer is the demon Satan. Legend has it that during the Merovingian dynasty, a fire‑breathing beast appeared. Bishop Saint Romanus subdued it with a cross, but its head could not be destroyed by fire. Eventually, it even grew a monster's tail, its body covered in feathers bristling with sharp thorns. I told Atlas about this, and he said nothing would go wrong this time. But in the middle of the night, while I was sleeping, my neck felt like it was being strangled by something. I couldn't run out, and I couldn't make a sound. I was nearly suffocated to death at home. The next day, Atlas rushed over, hugged me, rubbed my head, and said with concern that I shouldn't be so stupid in the future. I burst into tears and cried for a long time. I screamed like crazy, demanding that Atlas cut ties with Briar and drive her away. Atlas hugged me and promised. But the next time, he still stood by and let me walk right into it. The worst time was when I had just found my biological parents. Before I could even meet them, Briar had tricked them into going abroad in my name. When she returned, she cried even harder than I did, telling me my parents had been held captive. She said getting a tattoo of a blue‑scaled rattlesnake could absorb disaster for one's closest kin. I was terrified. All I could think about was my parents, so I rushed out that very night to get the tattoo. But three days later when I woke up, Atlas told me to wait a little longer. That wait turned into five years. My parents never returned. I used to think it was simply my own bad luck. Tonight, looking at that group chat projected on the wall, I suddenly understood. Atlas had been there every time these things happened. How could he have known every single time by coincidence? I pushed his arm off my shoulder. Atlas raised an eyebrow at me. I stepped back half a step. "I'm not going tonight." The private booth instantly fell silent. Atlas looked at me, his brows furrowing slightly, as if he had heard something very strange. "What did you say?" "The hellhound. I'm not getting it tattooed." "Elara, what the hell is wrong with you today?" Briar stood up in shock, screaming at me. I ignored her. My eyes remained fixed on the big screen. Messages were still flooding in below the poll. A: Has the i***t finally learned to be scared? B: Should've picked something more thrilling. C: I'll bet a hundred that she'll still go in a bit. D: Then I'll bet two hundred. I bet she regrets it in three minutes! I scrolled up. Atlas immediately reached out to stop me. "Don't scroll around." I dodged his hand. That only made me want to look even more. I wanted to know what they had said about me behind my back, how they had mocked me. As I scrolled down, my hand paused. The group had been created five years ago. On the first day, Briar sent the message. Briar: From now on, all experiments regarding Elara will be posted here. If anyone has any good ideas, hurry up and say them! A: Let's hit up that occult tattoo parlor. It's been trending like crazy online. B: Damn, bro, solid idea. Let's go with that. What do you say, Atlas? I froze for two seconds, then kept scrolling. Atlas: No objections. Just sweet‑talk her; she's gullible as hell. My fingers froze on that message. The private booth went quiet, as if we'd been sealed inside a glass jar. Silence. Someone noticed something was wrong and hurriedly stood up to turn off the projection. I stopped him in a flat voice, "Don't turn it off." I continued scrolling. These messages were from when I was in the hospital. Every day, they posted photos of me covered in black hair in the group chat. Briar laughed loudly, saying the hair on my arms looked like brushes. My childhood friend asked with a smile if she could braid it while I slept. Someone else posted a photo of me wearing an oxygen mask, gasping frantically in terror. Beneath that photo, Atlas replied with a smiley face. I was stunned for a moment, then couldn't help but laugh. Large teardrops rolled down my face, falling to the floor. It felt like a knife was twisting in my chest. I read that right. It was him. That day I had just woken up and couldn't even speak clearly. Atlas sat beside me, helping me drink. I even held his hand and thanked him. So he had been mocking me even then. I thought it was so laughable, so ironic. These familiar faces, flashing scene after scene, were like man‑eating demons before my eyes. "Elara, don't just look at these. Everyone just thought it was something new at the time; we were just messing with you." A friend we often ate with coughed lightly and tugged at my arm. I jerked my arm free. "I almost couldn't breathe. Was that just messing around? My parents are still abroad with no word from them. Was that just messing around too?" With bloodshot eyes, I bit out each word, glaring at Atlas. He flinched. Briar chimed in with a smile. "Hey, don't be mad. You turned out fine in the end, didn't you?" "If something happens to me, you're all going to jail," I snapped. "Enough! Is it really that serious? Since when is this jail‑worthy?" Atlas yanked me toward him, his brows furrowed. "You've been special ever since you were a kid. No matter what happens, you don't die; that's why everyone dares to mess with you. Try this on anyone else and see who'd dare." The knot in my chest suddenly loosened. So that was why. Because I wouldn't die. So they thought they could experiment on me however they pleased. It was fine with them that Satan choked the breath out of me. It was fine with them that the black dog cursed me, covering my body in coarse black fur. As long as I was still breathing in the end, they could just do it all over again. Atlas walked up to me, his face darkening. "That's enough, Elara! Give me the phone." I clutched my phone tightly, looking at him with red‑rimmed eyes. "You knew about all of this?" He frowned. "Knew about what?" "The Hellhound, the Gargoyle, the real story behind the Blue‑Scaled Rattlesnake; you knew about all of it, didn't you?" Atlas didn't answer. His silence was answer enough. I already knew, but I had to ask anyway. I clenched my fists. "What about that time with my parents?" This time, even Briar fell silent. My worst fears were confirmed. My eyes instantly burned. Atlas was clearly fed up. He ran a hand through his hair and warned me under his breath, "Everyone's here today. Don't keep dredging up the past." I lost it. I clawed at his clothes and screamed at him, crushed and furious. "Why? They're my parents! The parents I spent ten years searching for! You knew!" I sustained a head injury searching for my parents. That's when I started losing my wits, becoming the "fool" they called me. Atlas knew all of it! My entire body trembled, tears streaming down uncontrollably. "They're dead." Atlas furrowed his brows. "Something unexpected did happen, but nobody thought it would end up like this. You're overreacting. You never even met them, after all." Briar's eyes immediately turned red. She grabbed Atlas's arm, as if she were the one wronged. "Elara, are you really going to pin their deaths entirely on me?" I froze. She actually thought she was the victim? Briar sniffled and continued, "I was just trying to tease you back then. How was I supposed to know something would happen to your parents over there? I felt really guilty afterward too, so just drop it." Hearing this, I suddenly wanted to ask, 'How long did you feel guilty? One day? Two days? Or did you forget right after dinner?' But I didn't ask. There was no point anymore. Atlas reached out for me, his tone softening. "If you don't want to get tattooed today, then don't. I'll have Briar get a normal one instead. Everyone, stop arguing." "No." I pulled away from him. "Fine, puppies are cute too, okay? If she gets the Hellhound, we'll each get one. That way it's fair," Briar cut in. "How is that fair?" I looked at her and said with biting sarcasm, "A normal puppy won't attract black dogs." Briar's eyes immediately turned red. My voice raw, I spoke so bluntly for the first time. "If we're going to be fair, everyone gets the same tattoo." Briar flinched, tears falling. Atlas immediately grabbed my wrist in fury, roaring at me, "Elara, enough! Know when to stop. We're all out celebrating. Do you have to ruin everything?" This group had been talking about me for five years. Today they were still voting on what forbidden thing I should get. And now they were acting like I was the one embarrassing everyone. "Then I'll leave." Atlas said, his face dark, "If you walk out that door today, don't come crying back after a couple of days." I picked up the glass in front of me and threw the wine right in his face. Atlas wiped his face, the veins at his temples bulging with anger. Briar called my name in a shrill voice. "Elara, have you lost your mind?" I grabbed my bag. This time, I pulled the door open and walked right out. Someone behind me ran a couple of steps after me. I heard Atlas say in a cold, angry voice, "Don't chase her. Let her go. Let's see how many days she can hold out."