Daniel stood motionless, his heart pounding in his chest. The room felt alive, like it was breathing with him, waiting for his decision. The herbalist, an old man draped in a crimson robe, watched him with eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness and into his very soul. "Your journey begins here," the herbalist declared, tapping the coffin with a knowing nod. "You will spend the next seven days inside this." Daniel swallowed hard, disbelief mingling with fear. "Inside? For seven days?" he questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. The herbalist nodded again, his expression unchanging. "The devil does not give free gifts. If he gives you a cap, he will come for your head."

Daniel's hands trembled as he accepted the powder, his mind screaming for him to flee. Yet, his desire for wealth and a better life for his family anchored him. "Let's do this," he resolved, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. The herbalist's smile was long and eerie, a chilling acknowledgment of the path Daniel had chosen. "Good. Now, get inside," the herbalist instructed.

Daniel sat with his mother, her presence a comforting yet painful reminder of the life he was trying to escape. Her voice was gentle, yet it carried the weight of years of struggle. "Daniel," she called softly, her eyes weary. He sighed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Mama, for how long? Three years, and nothing has changed. I’m still here, broke and useless." His mother shook her head, her faith in him unwavering. "You are not useless. Your time will come."

Daniel knew she was right, yet the weight of his circumstances was suffocating. "Mama, look at my mates! They are buying cars, building houses, taking care of their parents. But me? I have nothing." Her gaze was sad but resolute. "Don’t let desperation push you into something you will regret." He tossed and turned, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and determination. "You are a man now, my son. But I beg you, don’t take a path that will bring shame to this family." Her plea lingered as he resolved to take matters into his own hands.

Daniel stood before the coffin, the black powder in his hand. He took a deep breath, his heart a drum in the silence. He rubbed the powder on his forehead, its gritty texture grounding him. "Let's do this," he repeated, his voice firm with resolve. He climbed into the coffin, the herbalist's presence a silent sentinel to his commitment. The lid closed, plunging him into darkness—a darkness that mirrored the path he had chosen, a path fraught with danger and deception.