The Pumpkin Pact

*(~500 words)*

By the time they regrouped in the grand hall, the air had changed. The chill was heavier, like the mansion itself was breathing with them.

The chat hadn’t stopped—thousands of comments streaming in like prayers and warnings.

> *“Replay the mirror scene—there’s someone standing behind Tae.”*

> *“WHY IS THERE AN EXTRA PERSON??”*

> *“Guys stop joking, this isn’t funny anymore.”*

Jungkook turned the camera to himself. His voice was low, careful. “Alright, everyone chill. We’re fine. Nothing happened—just an old mirror.”

Taehyung didn’t say anything. He was still staring at his hand, the one that had touched the mirror. The skin was cold, faintly gray.

Yoongi was setting up a new lantern. “Let’s just finish this shoot and leave.”

But then Hobi called from across the hall. “Uh, guys? Did you… carve these?”

On the long banquet table sat seven pumpkins—each perfectly carved, candlelight flickering inside.

Each one bore a name.

**RM. Jin. SUGA. J-Hope. Jimin. V. Jungkook.**

Jin blinked. “Okay, this is weird. We didn’t bring these.”

“Maybe the crew—?” Namjoon started, but stopped when he saw Jungkook’s expression.

His pumpkin was carved with sharp fangs. Taehyung’s had a crown of thorns. Both were placed closer together than the others. Almost touching.

Taehyung exhaled, voice barely a whisper. “They knew we’d come.”

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook asked, half-nervous laugh escaping.

But Tae didn’t answer. He walked up to the table and bent close, staring into the hollow smile of his pumpkin. For a heartbeat, the flame inside it pulsed blue.

Then the *chat froze.*

Thousands of hearts stopped mid-scroll.

And in their place, one message appeared over and over:

> *“Light the candles. Complete the pact.”*

Namjoon frowned. “Is this part of some filter?”

Jimin’s voice trembled. “We’re not controlling the chat anymore.”

Taehyung’s hand hovered over a lighter. “Maybe we should play along.”

“Don’t,” Jungkook said, stepping closer. “Whatever that mirror did—this is connected.”

Taehyung’s eyes met his, soft and distant. “Do you remember last Halloween? The shadow between us?”

“Of course I do,” Jungkook whispered. “You told me you saw someone following us after that shoot. But no one was there.”

“I think he’s here now,” Tae said. “And he wants us both.”

The flames in all seven pumpkins flickered violently, lighting themselves one by one. The room dimmed as every candle turned blue.

The door slammed shut. Windows locked. The floor creaked like footsteps circling them.

> “You hear that?” Jin gasped.

And then a voice—not from the room, but from the *livestream audio itself*—echoed through the speakers:

> *“Trade faces. Trade fates. Seal the pact.”*

The fans began typing frantically—

> *“Jungkook! Taehyung! RUN!!”*

> *“The pumpkins moved!”*

> *“Their reflections are smiling again—”*

But the boys couldn’t hear them anymore.

Taehyung turned to Jungkook with trembling lips, whispering,

> “If it asks for me, don’t say my name.”

Then all seven flames went out at once.

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