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墨書 Inktalez
If in the past, Song Bunan lived in a world filled with mythological tales and ghost stories, now his dreams and that old house had turned those stories into reality. The contents written in this notebook addressed to “Special Individual” not only subverted his imagination but also left him unable to discern truth from falsehood.
The original owner of the notebook had written content that seemed fabricated, yet based on his own experiences, it felt all too real. The notebook referred to the old house as Long Family, and while the name of Second Disciple was not mentioned, it clearly stated “Long Family Orphan.”
【When my friend and I found him in this house, he was just three years old, hiding in a wardrobe and trembling. Seeing his youth and keen intelligence, I asked if he would like to leave this place with me to learn some skills. The child clutched my clothing and asked if he could return home. Unsure how to answer, my friend carried him outside the garden and, after some unknown conversation, successfully persuaded him to join me.】
【This house was located in a Gathering Yin Land, where the builders must have understood the principles of feng shui, transforming this large garden into a haunted house. The Long Family unknowingly moved into this place, becoming the foundation for that ghostly abode. Fortunately, the child’s fate was not destined for death; he had a family deity protecting him, which saved his life. Because of this unique situation, my friend and I decided to enclose the garden as a wasteland to prevent the spirits within from escaping, though some hidden dangers remained.】
【As a Long Family Orphan, he was filled with ghostly energy and could not live like an ordinary person; thus, I imparted our secret techniques to ensure his safety in the future. He learned the ley line techniques well, but due to the drastic changes he experienced at home, he harbored only resentment towards ghosts. His methods became ruthless and merciless, and the ley line techniques left him without clarity of mind, making it easy for him to become lost.】
【You are Special Individual, who must have visited this house before it consumed all lives of the Long Family. Though you are tainted by ghostly energy, your life is not in danger; you are merely afflicted by a chronic ailment. Please rest assured; your ailment can be resolved if my friend or her descendants meet with you. Please assist this house within your means to break the curse of gathering shadows 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 will reveal your connection to this house. I believe that during your time here, you will gain much...】
The text abruptly ended, leaving him puzzled as he found that the entire notebook had returned to its previous state of “Please read its contents at an appropriate time.” Looking up at the clock, it was only one o'clock in the afternoon. Song Bunan shook the notebook in his hand but found no answers; feeling frustrated, he placed it back in the drawer and climbed onto his bed, hugging his pillow as he pondered over what he had just read.
Now he understood why that house had become a Haunted House, learned about its history, and gained valuable information about the Long Family. Next came recalling whether he had encountered those so-called villains. Lying on his bed made him drowsy; coupled with the warm afternoon sunlight flooding his room, it wasn’t long before Song Bunan fell asleep while wrestling with thoughts of villains.
Originally dreaming only of Dragon Garden, he had never experienced dreaming during daytime sleep before. Thus standing at the brand-new entrance of Dragon Garden, he must be dreaming—a daydream.
Before him stood a house that seemed newly constructed; its door gleamed under sunlight due to a coating on its black iron decorations. The Western-style high-rise villa resembled something out of a film set—a castle—surrounded by flowers and plants with cats and dogs occasionally darting about. In this dream state, he appeared very small; beside him stood his mother, who was laughing at something on her phone without acknowledging him.
He pulled his left hand free from her grasp and ran toward the front door, trying to squeeze through the gaps in the railing to see what lay inside this version of Dragon Garden. However, the gaps were too narrow; he could barely fit one arm through. Just as he was about to turn back and ask his mother what was happening, someone emerged from inside.
A woman.
It seemed that there wasn’t enough budget for dream construction regarding this woman; although she stood right before him wearing red clothing, no matter how hard he tried to focus, her features remained unclear. Startled by this naturally blurry effect of dreams, he wanted to turn back to find his mother but realized she too was indistinct. Yet how could 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 when his hands looked like that.
Perhaps it was related to having no childhood memories; he couldn’t recall an age when those chubby little hands existed. After all, since he could remember, his body had always been thin due to issues with his back—forever being called skinny like a toothpick.
Moreover, deep down he knew this was a dream. After fruitlessly pondering about age issues, he decided not to think anymore but instead sought ways to wake himself up. In past dreams before waking up there would always be signs—like encountering monsters that would kill him or being thrown off rooftops while standing on the second floor. It seemed that only death could trigger awakening in dreams. But now there was nothing around him—just two increasingly blurry women chatting together.
Summoning courage, he called out “Mom,” staring at the figure whose outline had become vague. As soon as he spoke, she dissipated like mist blown away by wind. The woman who had walked out from the house also wavered slightly before vanishing completely. With their disappearance came a transformation of the house back into its dilapidated state; what had once been a pristine door now appeared crooked and unstable before him—seemingly ready to collapse with just a sneeze.
His body hadn’t reverted back to adult form; hesitating whether or not to enter again made him feel an oppressive force behind him. He hurriedly stepped forward toward the door while turning back to look—where there should have been trees and low grass behind him now lay barren ground with only that green-faced monster with a big mouth standing nearby.
The monster remained still at a distance without any other movement; despite lacking eyes, it felt as though it was fixated on him.
He remembered Xiao Mei mentioning that this creature was a house ghost. Having researched what exactly a house ghost did, Song Bunan felt less fear now since he hadn’t done anything destructive towards the house. He straightened up and faced it boldly: “What time is it? Why am I seeing this place during daytime?”
The green-faced big-mouthed house ghost slowly approached until it stood before him parallel on all fours like a spider—but far more imposing visually than any spider could ever be. At such close range, Song Bunan saw its true form clearly: across its face stretched an enormous mouth filled with three rows of teeth; its lips were flesh-colored against its blue skin—a striking contrast—and right down the middle of its lips ran a thin black line vertically.
The house ghost swayed its head as if examining him; as it drew nearer still, Song Bunan caught a whiff of water.
The rich scent reminded him of freshly rained grass—moist yet mingled with hints of earthiness—a refreshing aroma that put him at ease despite its association with such an eerie creature. This scent soothed Song Bunan, who already loved post-rain fragrances.
He extended his chubby little hand unique to dreams toward the house ghost: “I’m Song Bunan.”
However, his outstretched hand went unnoticed as after sizing him up thoroughly; the house ghost straightened up and stepped around him into the garden where it effortlessly passed through solid objects before gradually becoming transparent until disappearing completely.
Surveying around again left only himself standing there; Song Bunan withdrew his hand and rubbed his face—feeling like playing some music would fit the mood but couldn’t decide between “Little Cabbage” or “Moonlight Over Second Spring.”
With no way back through the door and no path around him either—the dream trapped him in this dead end without indicating what it wanted from him—was it merely inviting him for a tour of daylight views around an old house?
The surroundings were eerily quiet, with only his breathing for company. It felt a bit boring, but more than that, it was lonely. Fortunately, he sat still, waiting for this dream to change on its own, silently urging himself to wake up. However, the more he thought about it, the more irritated he became.
In a fit of frustration, he decided to check if there was anything in his dream pocket that could alleviate his boredom. He thrust both hands straight into his pockets and indeed found something in his right pocket—a rope-like object that felt cool to the touch.
It 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. The pendant was too small for him to discern what it depicted even after examining it for a long time. Still, having something to fiddle with was better than nothing, so he decided to mimic his father's habit and began to twist it around in his fingers.
The jade pendant felt incredibly delicate, a small piece gliding between his fingertips as he moved. It was both cool and smooth. Unconsciously, as he rubbed the jade, drowsiness began to creep in; his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and his mind started to fog over. Yet, Song Bunan still retained some awareness and thought to himself that since he was already dreaming, could there be such a thing as a dream within a dream?
Lost in such musings, sleepiness consumed the last remnants of his rationality. Overcome by drowsiness and losing his sense of balance, he fell backward but felt his head hit something soft.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bedroom, sunlight streaming down on him. However, the time had already turned to three o'clock.
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