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墨書 Inktalez
The weather gradually turned cooler, and as Song Bunan rode his electric bike, he noticed his hands had become somewhat numb from the cold. While waiting at a traffic light, he checked the temperature and found it had already dropped to single digits. He rubbed his stiff fingers and decided to stop by a shop on the side of the road to buy a pair of gloves.
While the shop owner was counting change, Song Bunan noticed a missing person notice posted on the wall. The photo showed a preteen boy in a school uniform, holding a book and smiling brightly. The eleven-year-old had gone missing after a spring outing to Mang Mountain.
Instinctively, Song Bunan began to recall the ghostly faces he had seen at Mang Mountain, but none matched the boy in the photo. Just then, the shop owner came out with the change and, noticing Song Bunan's interest, said, "That's my upstairs neighbor's child. He went to Mang Mountain for a spring outing with some other kids, but none of them came back. Several families are frantic; it's been half a year with no news. Sigh..."
Several children. Song Bunan noted this keyword and asked the owner if he had any more of those missing person notices. The owner mentioned he had a few copies that he hadn’t gotten around to posting in his shop yet. Upon hearing this, the owner suddenly became excited, walked out from behind the counter to shake hands with him, and handed him a thick stack of papers.
"To be honest with you, brother, there have been so many families losing children these past two years. These are all notices that I haven't had time to distribute yet. If you have space in your shop, please post some so everyone can see them; it’s really heartbreaking. I've filled up my bulletin board outside with them; there's always something new every day. You wouldn’t believe how many families are suffering from this..."
The owner was a warm-hearted man who sighed repeatedly as he spoke, clearly pained by the situation. Song Bunan took the stack of papers, put them in a plastic bag, and placed it in his bike frame while assuring the owner that he would post them all.
When he arrived at his shop with a bundle of missing person notices, he saw a pickup truck parked by the roadside. The owner of Paper Fire Shop spotted him and came over with his smoking pipe, cheerfully saying he had been waiting for quite some time.
"You sent me a message saying you arrived three minutes ago; I saw your bike pass right by!" The owner laughed brightly and pointed at the door, urging him to hurry inside as he was parched.
As they entered, the owner picked up the plastic bag containing the missing person notices and flipped through two of them before his expression darkened significantly; even his smoking pipe was extinguished. Curious about his reaction, Song Bunan asked if there were any familiar faces among them.
The owner nodded slowly and quickly pulled out several notices from the stack. He explained that these children were already gone; their families had come to order paper offerings from his shop for memorial purposes and had even customized many toys for them.
"Gone? When they were found..." Song Bunan pressed for more information.
"Yes," the owner replied somberly. "When they were found, it was just their bodies on the backside of the mountain. Two parents said that when they found their children, there were still knives stuck to their hands as if someone had played a cruel joke on them. It was horrific." The owner sighed heavily as he spoke, filled with sorrow for those children.
Song Bunan could sense how much the owner cared for children; such events must weigh heavily on his heart. He took the flyers but decided not to press further on this grim topic and instead invited the owner inside for tea.
"You won't see two living people in your shop for three years; what are you doing with these?" The owner's mood shifted quickly as he grabbed a drink from behind the counter and took a large gulp, letting out a satisfied sigh.
"I plan to ask some friends tonight after I finish burning things," Song Bunan said. "Many of them travel around; they might have seen something." The owner understood immediately upon hearing this and quickly stepped outside to grab a paper bag from his truck containing a fresh stack of yellow flyers.
"Good thing I felt like bringing extra today; I specifically grabbed some bulk ones. Can't just ask without offering something in return," Song Bunan said happily as he accepted the bag, thanking the owner profusely before stopping only when he pulled out some groceries from his bag and insisted that they have dinner together before he left.
They had known each other for five or six years, sharing similar temperaments and interests, and it didn't take long for them to become good friends. Whenever Song Bunan needed something, he would just send a message, and the boss would prepare it promptly, even arranging for urgent requests so that he wouldn’t have to wait all night.
"Speaking of which, I remember that laboratory everyone has been talking about recently was shut down a long time ago. How did it resurface?" The boss casually glanced into the kitchen, watching Song Bunan skillfully cook while engaging in small talk.
Song Bunan added firewood to the already lit stove and shook his head lightly as he replied, "It's quite troublesome. They say the laboratory was officially banned and dismantled back then, but in reality, it had long since gone underground for research. It seems they’ve made some progress in the past two years and have only now revealed themselves a bit, probably just to show off to their collaborators."
The boss wasn't part of the crowd that would come into contact with such laboratories, so Song Bunan didn't go into detail but instead chatted about the surface details. The boss shook his head in disbelief and said, "Back then when I heard they were using people for experiments, I was furious. But what could I do? I'm not skilled at anything; all I can do is add to my own troubles. Later, when I heard it got shut down, I was happy for quite a while. Now I just feel helpless; those who are capable will always find ways to solve their problems, even if what they’re doing isn’t right. It’s frustrating."
"Who can argue with that? When this whole thing broke out, my parents were terrified. They sent me to and from school every day, afraid I might be taken as a test subject too." He poured water into the pot, deciding to stew the ribs first.
The boss stroked his chin thoughtfully, frowning as he recalled what he was doing at that time. "I think I had just graduated and was having conflicts with my family. I spent half a year holed up in my rented apartment, just eating and waiting to die."
"That's impressive," Song Bunan said, giving him a thumbs-up. "Being able to stay home for six months without going out shows real patience." The boss waved his hand dismissively, saying it wasn’t a big deal; if he didn’t have something he liked to do now, he would still be cooped up at home every day.
"Then you could be a stay-at-home husband while your wife works," he joked, earning an approving nod from the boss. The scruffy man stood by the stove and patted his chest, claiming that he was indeed the one managing things at home now since his wife had a gathering and wouldn’t be back for dinner.
Innocently caught in this domestic bliss, Song Bunan looked at the boss with confusion and asked why he had to hurt him like this. The proud man confidently tossed his head back and said, "What can I do? My wife is just that amazing. And I'm not pushing you; you're thirty now! Winter is almost over and you'll be thirty-one soon. If you don’t find someone soon, your parents will be worried sick."
Having dodged marriage pressure from family relatives but not from friends, Song Bunan covered the pot with its lid and stuck out his tongue at the boss. "You don’t need to rush me; I already have someone."
This made the boss straighten up with curiosity burning in his eyes. He pulled over a stool and sat next to him without moving again, urging him to quickly share how he managed to find someone so fast. Song Bunan pretended to be mysterious and smiled shyly, saying it wasn’t something one could just casually talk about—how embarrassing.
"Embarrassing my foot!" The boss exclaimed as he reached out to shake him. "Just spill it! Why should I beat around the bush with you? If you annoy me enough, next time all paper prices will go up by fifty percent!"
Upon hearing this, Song Bunan displayed an incredulous expression and wondered if he really wanted to know that badly. The boss nodded eagerly, saying he was very curious about what kind of person could make someone like him—who didn’t like socializing—fall in love. "If you hadn’t mentioned having a type you liked before, I would seriously suspect you were into ghostly romances."
"Not at all," Song Bunan replied hastily, feeling slightly flustered by this comment.
"The type I like is someone strong and tall. This time I hit it off with someone while working together." As Song Bunan spoke shyly about his feelings, the boss showed an inexplicable excitement as he eagerly patted him on the shoulder and asked what the current situation was.
Upon hearing Song Bunan quietly admit that he was living with someone, the boss transformed into a monkey, howling and screeching beside him. He pulled out his phone and excitedly sent the news to his wife, completely disregarding the fact that the person involved was sitting right next to him, loudly expressing his exhilaration through a voice message.
He claimed it was merely a way to express his joy for his little brother settling down.
"Just admit you want to gossip; stop making excuses," Song Bunan said, his face flushed with embarrassment. When he heard a woman's laughter from the phone, he wished he could bury his head in the stove.
"Hey, this is happiness," the boss said as he put away his phone and stood up to fetch some water. The smile on his face had vanished, replaced by an odd tension. "Brother, have you offended someone recently?"
The sudden question left Song Bunan, who had been focused on tending the fire, utterly confused. He looked up at the boss with a puzzled expression. In the brief moment of their eye contact, he caught sight of someone standing beside the bar whose face he couldn't make out. The boss slowly retreated deeper into the kitchen, signaling for him to check it out.
Song Bunan hadn’t heard the doorbell ring nor any sound of the back door opening. Could this person have been lurking in the shop recently? He stepped forward, but the figure mirrored his movement, maintaining a distance of about one and a half to two meters.
The newcomer wore a mask, and the brim of their hat obscured their eyes, making it impossible to discern their features. Their clothing was oddly styled; after staring for a while, Song Bunan still couldn’t identify which fashion trend it belonged to. The person stood there silently, hands hidden in their sleeves, leaving him uncertain whether they were armed.
"Can I help you?" Song Bunan decided not to advance any further and sat down instead, trying to create an atmosphere that conveyed he meant no harm. The stranger turned slightly in response to his movement, tilting their head as if observing him.
This type of person was exactly who Song Bunan disliked facing; their quietness and seemingly harmless gaze made it impossible for him to guess their intentions or plan his next move. Especially since they had appeared without a sound—either they were specially trained or possessed some extraordinary skill.
Having encountered too many strange individuals lately, Song Bunan regretted not having grabbed his phone earlier. Now, any movement on his part could provoke an unexpected attack from across the way.
The two faced off; whoever moved first would reveal a vulnerability.
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