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Midnight Zither Curse: Centennial Festival Spirit of Yun Lai Inn

MAY
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Every night at midnight, a strange sound of a guqin would echo through the inn. It wasn't until I discovered that the musician had died ten years ago that I began to understand the mystery.
 
As I pushed open the weathered wooden door of the inn, dusk had already settled in. The mist in the mountains swirled in the twilight, shrouding the ancient building in a hazy veil. The sign of the inn swayed gently in the wind, creaking softly; the words "Yun Lai Inn" had faded, and dark green moss crept along its edges.
 
"Guest, are you here for a meal or a room?" A hoarse voice came from behind the counter. I then noticed an elderly man hunched over, standing there. He wore a gray robe that had become worn and faded. A black eye patch covered his right eye, while his remaining left eye was cloudy and lifeless, yet it fixed its gaze on me intently.
 
"A room," I replied instinctively avoiding his stare, placing my luggage on the ground. "I would like a quieter room."
 
The old man retrieved a brass key from a drawer, its surface covered in verdigris. "Second Floor Innermost Room," he said. "It's the quietest one."
 
I took the key, feeling its coldness against my fingertips. There seemed to be some dark red stains on it that I couldn't wipe away no matter how hard I tried.

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