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墨書 Inktalez
If the life that Song Bunan once lived was merely a realm of mythical tales and ghost stories, now it had transformed into reality due to his dreams and that old mansion. The contents written in this notebook addressed to the Special Individual not only shattered his imagination but also left him unable to discern truth from falsehood.
The original owner's writings seemed absurd, yet based on his own experiences, they felt all too real. The notebook referred to the old mansion as the Long Family estate, and although the text did not name the Second Disciple brother, it clearly labeled him as the Long Family Orphan.
"When my friend and I found him in this mansion, he was only three years old, trembling in a wardrobe. Seeing his youth and keen intellect, I asked if he would like to leave with me to learn some skills. The child clutched my clothing and asked if he could return home. I didn’t know how to answer; it was my friend who carried him outside the garden and, after some unknown words of persuasion, successfully convinced him to join my school."
"This mansion is located in a Gathering Yin Land, where the builders must have understood the principles of feng shui, turning this grand estate into a haunted house. The Long Family unknowingly moved in, becoming the foundation for that ghostly abode. Fortunately, this child’s fate was not sealed; he had a family deity protecting him, which saved his life. Due to this unique situation, my friend and I decided to enclose this garden as a wasteland to prevent the spirits within from escaping, though some risks remained."
"As a Long Family Orphan, he was filled with ghostly energy and could not live as an ordinary person. Thus, I imparted our secret techniques to ensure his safety in the future. He learned the ley line secrets well; coupled with his personal experiences of upheaval at home, his heart was filled with resentment towards spirits, leading him to act ruthlessly without compassion. The ley line secrets had clouded his judgment, making him easily lost."
"You are the Special Individual; you must have visited this mansion before it consumed all of the Long Family's lives. Though you have been tainted by ghostly energy, your life is unharmed—only afflicted by a chronic ailment. Please rest assured; your ailment can be resolved if my friend or her descendants meet with you. Kindly assist this mansion within your means to break the gathering of Yin spells and grant freedom to the spirits within."
"The Haunted House has both good and bad aspects; I believe you have encountered some of its villains. If you cannot recall when you met them, please reflect on any unusual occurrences in your life—that is your connection to this mansion. I trust that during your time here, you will gain much..."
The text abruptly stopped, leaving Song Bunan puzzled as he found that the notebook had reverted to its previous state of "please review its contents at an appropriate time." Glancing at the clock revealed it was only one o'clock in the afternoon. He shook the entire notebook in his hands but found no answers; reluctantly, he placed it back in the drawer and climbed onto his bed, hugging a pillow as he contemplated what he had just read.
Now he understood why that mansion had become a Haunted House; he knew its history and had gained valuable information about the Long Family. The next step was to recall whether he had encountered any of those so-called villains. Lying on his bed made him drowsy, especially since the room was warmed by the midday sun. After a short while of trying to remember details about those villains, Song Bunan fell asleep.
In dreams where only Dragon Garden existed before, he had never experienced dreaming during daytime sleep. Thus, standing at the brand-new entrance of Dragon Garden must mean he was dreaming—a daydream.
The mansion before him appeared newly constructed; its entrance gleamed under sunlight with black iron decorations shining brightly due to their coating. The Western-style high-rise villa resembled something out of a movie set—a castle—surrounded by blooming flowers and occasional darting cats and dogs. In this dream state, he felt very small; beside him stood his mother, who was laughing at something on her phone without acknowledging him.
He pulled away from her grasp and ran toward the entrance gate, attempting to squeeze through the railings for a better look at what lay inside Dragon Garden. However, the railings were tightly spaced; he could barely fit one arm through. Just as he was about to turn back and ask his mother what was happening now, someone emerged from inside.
A woman.
It seemed that there wasn’t enough budget for this dream's portrayal of her; although she stood right before him wearing red clothes, no matter how hard he squinted or focused his gaze, her features remained indistinct. A bit frightened by this naturally blurry effect of dreams, he wanted to turn back to find his mother but realized she too appeared indistinct. Yet why did he know she was on a call and laughing?
Standing between these two women while observing his own small chubby hands shrinking even more made him reflect on how old he might have been when his hands looked like that.
Perhaps due to not having childhood memories associated with himself, he couldn’t imagine an age for those chubby little hands. After all, since he could remember anything at all, his body had always been thin due to issues with his back—forever being told he looked like a toothpick.
Moreover, deep down he knew this was just a dream. After fruitless contemplation about age issues, he decided not to think anymore but instead sought ways to wake himself up. Previously in dreams before waking up there would always be signs—like encountering monsters that killed him or being thrown off rooftops while standing on the second floor. It seemed that death in dreams was often key to awakening. But now there was nothing around him; just two increasingly blurry women chatting together.
Summoning courage, he called out "Mom" while staring at the indistinct figure that barely retained its outline. As soon as his voice faded away like mist blown by wind, both women vanished into thin air. The woman who had walked out from the mansion also flickered before disappearing completely. With their disappearance came a transformation—the mansion reverted back to its dilapidated state from memory; just moments ago pristine doors now swayed unevenly before him as if they might collapse with a mere sneeze.
His body hadn’t returned to adult form either; hesitating whether or not to step inside again made him feel an oppressive force behind him. He hurriedly took several steps forward until reaching the door's edge and turned back only to see what should have been trees and low grass now lay bare—just dirt remained along with that green-faced monster he'd encountered last time inside.
The monster stood not far behind him without making any other moves; though it lacked eyes, Song Bunan could distinctly sense its unwavering gaze fixed upon him.
He recalled Xiao Mei mentioning that this creature was a house ghost; having researched what house ghosts do prior made Song Bunan less fearful now since he hadn’t done anything destructive towards the mansion itself. Puffing out his chest confidently facing it head-on while asking: "What time is it? How come I'm seeing this place during daylight?"
The green-faced house ghost slowly approached until it stood parallel with him on all fours like a spider but far more visually striking than any spider could ever be at such close range. This proximity allowed Song Bunan an up-close view of its features: an enormous mouth spanning across its face filled with rows upon rows of teeth—its lips were flesh-colored against its blue skin making them stand out even more prominently with a thin black line running vertically down their center.
The house ghost swayed its head as if observing him closely; as it drew nearer still Song Bunan caught whiffs of water.
The rich scent reminded him of freshly rained grass—moist yet mixed with hints of earthiness—a refreshing aroma that oddly relaxed him despite being near such an intimidating creature known as a house ghost. He extended one of his chubby little hands toward it saying: "I’m Song Bunan."
However, his outstretched hand went unnoticed as after sizing him up thoroughly—the house ghost straightened itself up before stepping aside and walking through the garden gate effortlessly passing through solid objects until it gradually became transparent before vanishing completely.
Surveying around once more left only himself standing there; Song Bunan withdrew his hand rubbing his face feeling like music would suit this moment perfectly but couldn’t decide whether to play Little Cabbage or Moonlight Over Second Spring.
With no way back through those gates nor any visible paths surrounding him—the dream trapped him in this dead end without indicating what purpose it served—was it merely meant for sightseeing through daylight views of an old mansion?
The surroundings were eerily quiet, with only his breathing accompanying him. It was a bit boring, but mostly lonely. Fortunately, he sat there waiting for this dream to change on its own, silently urging himself to wake up. However, the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.
In a fit of exasperation, he decided to check his pockets in the dream for something to alleviate his boredom. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets and felt something in his right pocket. It was a rope-like object, cool to the touch.
Inside was a woven red string, with a pendant attached. Not being familiar with jewelry, he could only guess that it was a piece of jade, carved into the shape of some animal in white jade. The pendant was too small for him to discern what it depicted even after examining it for a long time. Still, having something to play with was better than nothing. He decided to mimic his father's habit and began to twist it around his fingers.
The jade pendant felt incredibly delicate, gliding smoothly between his fingertips as he moved. Unconsciously, he started to feel drowsy while playing with the jade; his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and his mind began to fog over. Yet, Song Bunan still retained some awareness, wondering if he could possibly experience a dream within a dream since he was already dreaming. As these thoughts swirled in his mind, sleepiness consumed the last remnants of his rationality. Overcome by drowsiness and losing his sense of balance, he fell backward, only to feel his head hit something soft.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bedroom, sunlight streaming over him. However, the time had changed; it was now three o'clock.
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