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墨書 Inktalez
The night sky was devoid of the moon, thick clouds occasionally revealing a fleeting gap that allowed a dim silver disc to appear momentarily, only to be pulled back into the embrace of darkness, suffocating its light.
When the alarm on his phone rang, Song Bunan opened his eyes to see Xiao Mei already geared up, sitting at the door and polishing a short sword with a white towel. The soft yellow light cast a gentle glow on the blade, making the intricate patterns etched upon it seem to twist lightly with Xiao Mei's movements. The design looked somewhat familiar, and he rubbed his eyes and leaned in for a closer look.
However, before he could approach, Xiao Mei sheathed the sword and stepped out. "Hey! Wait up! Let me take a look at that weapon!" Song Bunan called after her.
"What for?"
"It looks familiar."
But as they spoke, Xiao Mei continued walking without pausing. The two of them made their way to the old house, and just as Song Bunan was about to examine the short sword closely, the front door creaked open, revealing an impenetrable darkness inside.
Though there was no light outside, he could clearly see the patterns on the sword. He pushed up his glasses and shivered; it was too cold—so cold that even in summer, wearing an autumn jacket made him feel chilly. Realizing he wouldn't have time for a detailed inspection, Song Bunan handed the short sword back to Xiao Mei and pulled out his own weapon from his pocket—a flashlight.
He had considered bringing something for self-defense before coming here, but after searching through his home and finding nothing but a kitchen knife and a peculiar decorative knife gifted by his grandfather on the bookshelf, he had ultimately decided to bring two flashlights instead; even if they didn't shine, they could still be swung as weapons.
Xiao Mei paid no mind to what Song Bunan carried; gripping her weapon tightly, she strode into the house. She had waited too long for this day. Even though she knew this day would eventually come and couldn't be avoided, it felt like an eternity for her.
Fifteen long years had transformed her from an ordinary person into a solitary figure burdened with a "mission" that most could not comprehend. Everyone said this was destiny's great task bestowed upon her, but whether it was good or bad remained clear only to her.
As for Song Bunan, she initially held no hope for him. After all, even her master couldn't confirm whether someone related to Dragon Garden existed or not. But after feeling something unusual in the house that night and encountering him outside, she knew she hadn't been abandoned by fate.
"Once we enter the house, stay close to me. No matter what happens, I will protect you," she said as they stepped into her former home. She positioned her short sword defensively in front of her, ready to shield the defenseless Song Bunan behind her. Just then, however, he grabbed her arm and pulled her aside.
Confused, she looked at him but hesitated to break free from his grasp. In this house, Song Bunan understood better than she did what was happening. After all, despite considering himself adept at night vision, he realized he couldn't see anything in this dimly lit room—the paintings on the walls or even the staircase were obscured from view.
As they ran, one thought crossed Xiao Mei's mind: Song Bunan had mentioned bringing a flashlight; why wasn't it shining? Almost simultaneously, she recalled their first meeting when he had told her about it.
"My flashlight is useless; it broke as soon as I entered the garden. The one I got from the study works much better."
Hearing a noise ahead snapped Xiao Mei back to reality; almost instantly, she found her vision returning. Although there was still no light in the room filled with bookshelves, she could clearly see everything inside—just as one would expect when viewing things in darkness.
The person beside her was panting heavily but then broke into a goofy smile as he waved his flashlight: "It still doesn't work! So let's grab another flashlight here before we leave."
"You can see things inside?" Xiao Mei asked without moving from where she stood in front of the closed door while watching Song Bunan navigate toward the desk and pull open a drawer.
He nodded slightly in response: "Earlier outside I couldn't see anything in here; but once I came inside, I realized I could see again. And…." After retrieving a flashlight from the drawer and turning it on to illuminate himself, his expression twisted slightly.
"And there are so many ghosts in here."
After having faced Qing Mian Shou Wu Ling last time, Song Bunan initially thought other ghosts couldn't possibly be as terrifying; however, stepping into this house made him realize how naive he truly was.
Confronted by dozens of translucent spirits of varying shapes—each more frightening than the last—he felt his breath freeze in his throat. Xiao Mei's voice was soft yet managed to pierce through his growing fear with a hint of rationality. The flashlight still didn't work while those entities stared intently at them; whether it was an illusion or not, he felt they were drawing closer.
In the blankness of his mind, all he remembered was the safety of the study, and driven by instinct for survival, he moved his legs, not forgetting to pull Xiao Mei along. It truly felt like a miracle.
These ghosts were terrifying, far more so than those in his dreams that had come to kill him—ten times more frightening. The information from his sixth sense screamed danger in bold red letters, practically tattooing "Get out now" on his forehead. Thus, his first reaction upon entering the study was to shut the door.
This flashlight was much heavier than the one he had used last time, still an old model, but its cold touch in his hand somehow eased his fear considerably.
“How are they distributed?” Xiao Mei wanted to go upstairs, to that place where Song Bunan had mentioned an old man shrouded in black mist surrounded by white fog. But now he could see nothing and had to rely on Song Bunan for guidance.
Holding the Flashlight, he approached Song Bunan, who gestured for him to turn around. When he did, he saw a map of the house for the first time.
“This zero here is the study; we are right here. When we go out, walk straight to the right, and you’ll find the stairs. You can go up from either side, but if you want to head towards the black mist, you must take the right staircase and then go right again. As for those ghosts I saw earlier, aside from the ones standing in the living room, the others were all clustered near the right side of the stairs.”
Clearly, they were intentionally blocking his path. But why did they know he intended to go right? Xiao Mei couldn’t make sense of it. He wasn’t the one who had torn down the house’s Restriction. Besides wanting to kill him, what else did they want?
Was it Song Bunan? Looking at the person beside him who was carefully studying the map, Xiao Mei had a not fully formed thought that was nonetheless close to the truth. He regretted bringing this person along; if his suspicions were correct, what was about to happen would be hard for him to handle.
“Xiao Mei, since I can see those ghosts, you must stick close to me when we go out,” Song Bunan said, and there was nothing in his tone that invited agreement. But at this moment, he was truly their only hope…
“Tell me their locations; I’ll be your eyes while you clear the path.”
Sitting on the still-warm sofa, he took off his cloak and neatly folded it beside him. He opened a box from his pocket and delicately pinned a brooch onto himself.
The amber-like shell encased a small piece of black bone; if one leaned in close enough to sniff it, they could catch a faint scent of blood.
“I wish to ride the wind back…” he hummed softly, singing some lines of poetry in his own tune. His gentle voice echoed through the empty room before fading away; though it didn’t travel far, it stirred something within.
“Yet I fear that high towers of jade will be too cold.” This line came out louder and intensified the stirring around him. Still, he moved slowly as if savoring the decoration on his chest.
“You think it’s beautiful too? You really have good taste,” he murmured to himself, lost in his own world as he tightened the laces on his long boots with a smile full of affection. “I’ve waited for this day for a long time; it’s good for both him and me. Though it will hurt him greatly, it must be done. The things in that house are nothing; they can be easily disposed of—he just can’t kill them.”
As he stood up, all movement ceased abruptly; silence returned to the room. Yet he slowly walked forward towards the narrow wooden staircase leading upstairs. The stairs were visibly cracked and creaked with each step he took—like a sigh or perhaps discontent.
His hand brushed against the wall as he moved rhythmically up and down with each step.
Upon reaching the second floor, what awaited him was a head with a large hole and only a mouth—the Azure Guardian Spirit. The spirit squatted by Xiao Mei’s bed, tilting its head as if observing him. But as he drew closer, it began to retreat.
“Since you are no longer needed there, you are free now.”
With that said, he climbed up to the window and leaped into the night, disappearing into its depths.
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