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墨書 Inktalez
I suddenly inhaled sharply, a chill running down my spine. I reminded myself not to panic, to stay calm. My palm clenched into a fist and then slowly relaxed.
I said, "Soybean, just tell me why you want to dig up your grave, and I'll help you."
Soybean fell silent again. Finally, he spoke, "Brother, you dig it up first, and then I'll tell you."
I wasn't sure if Soybean would actually harm me, but he had tried to drown me last night... I recalled what that child had told me earlier: Soybean was looking for a scapegoat to take his place in reincarnation.
The legends about ghosts are a mix of truth and fiction, impossible to decipher. However, the tale of the water ghost's substitute has been passed down through generations.
"Brother," Soybean called out to me again.
At that moment, I felt trapped in my own hesitation. I didn't know the true cause of Soybean's death; the adults said he drowned.
But the children claimed that Soybean knew he was going to die the day before he passed away.
It was a mystery, and the answer was right beside me, yet I couldn't grasp it.
I exhaled deeply and asked Soybean, "If you answer one question for me, I'll help you dig up that grave."
Soybean seemed to ponder for a moment before replying, "Alright, brother, go ahead and ask."
I got straight to the point: "Did you know you were going to die the day before it happened?" After asking this question, I felt an odd sensation wash over me; knowing one was going to die and actually dying were two very different things.
People tend to avoid danger when they can; if we know something bad is coming, we would never rush towards it. Yet Soybean made a decision contrary to ours—knowing he would die but still walking towards his doom. Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind: Soybean must have been forced! He was forced to die.
I waited quietly for Soybean's response, hoping he would give me an answer that would clarify many questions.
Soybean didn't keep me waiting long. His spirit appeared from the void, looking much like he did last night, though his complexion was even paler.
As I watched Soybean's sudden appearance, I already knew he was a ghost, but I wasn't as panicked as I had been when I first saw the old lady.
"Brother, I can't answer that question. Someone is watching me."
"What?" I replied, surprised. Soybean mentioned that someone was watching him, and earlier in the afternoon, a child had said that Soybean claimed someone was waiting for him.
The connection between these two statements made the mystery even more perplexing.
Soybean repeated, "I can't say, brother. Someone is watching me."
I encouraged him, "Soybean, you can tell me. I'll help you. I'll protect you."
Soybean seemed to have something unspeakable weighing on him; an eleven-year-old boy looked like a middle-aged man who had experienced too much. He hesitated, his lips trembling slightly.
I continued to wait.
Finally, Soybean said, "Brother, I can't say. You can't protect me."
I wanted to press further, but seeing the fear on Soybean's face made me hold back. The topic was open now, and he didn't urge me to dig deeper.
So I shifted the conversation and asked, "Soybean, what was the secret you wanted to tell me that night? Were you trying to drag me down to the river to drown me?"
As soon as I finished speaking, Soybean hurriedly denied it, saying, "Brother, you have to believe me. I would never want to harm you." There was a hint of grievance in Soybean's voice.
In truth, I did believe Soybean. When he was alive, our relationship was genuinely good. He had no reason to want to hurt me.
"I believe you," I said.
Suddenly, Soybean broke into a smile, though it still had an eerie quality to it.
I knew there were many secrets Soybean hadn't revealed; he was too afraid to speak. When he mentioned someone watching him, that "person" probably wasn't human at all! If it were a person, how terrifying would that be!
"Brother, please help me dig up that grave!" Soybean pleaded.
At that moment, a cold wind swept across the water's surface and hit me, soaking my pants and making me shiver uncontrollably. It felt particularly chilly at that time.
I turned and walked to the grave, with Soybean following closely beside me.
I looked at the mound of earth where Soybean's remains lay buried, while he stood right next to me. It felt strange.
It had been less than seven days since Soybean's burial—only four or five days—but his spirit hadn't descended to Yama's Hall; instead, it lingered in the human realm. There must be a reason for this.
By now, the body should have begun to rot and smell foul. I glanced at Soybean's grave several times as he called out to me again.
Then I agreed to help Soybean dig up the grave, but on the condition that after we dug it up, he would tell me why we needed to do so. Soybean agreed.
After we reached an agreement, I realized I didn't have any tools with me. So I picked up a handy stone from the ground to use as a makeshift tool.
I began to dig the grave, and as I went deeper, I could clearly feel my hands trembling involuntarily. Living people are most wary of things related to the dead.
So when my hands touched the damp, cold soil, I forced myself to suppress the unease in my heart and continued working. Before I started this job, I was quite skilled at farm work; although I hadn't done it for a while, my old skills hadn’t faded.
My hands quickly became covered in dirt, even my nails were filled with it. As I dug deeper, I unconsciously found my courage. I tossed aside a stone in my hand and began to dig directly with my bare hands.
It was as if I had forgotten something important. My hands were bleeding from the sharp stones and hard soil, yet I continued tirelessly.
The mound of earth that had risen was soon flattened by my efforts, and my fingers were now all stained with blood. It felt as though I had lost myself in this act.
Just as I was about to "break the grave and see the corpse," my phone rang. It rang for twenty or thirty seconds before I finally reacted.
Just as I was about to answer the call, Soybean said to me, "Brother, it's almost done; let's answer the phone later."
I turned to glance at Soybean. My ten fingers were completely covered in blood, but I felt no pain.
Soybean looked at me with eyes full of anticipation, so I put my phone back into my pocket. She let out a sigh of relief and revealed a strange smile.
However, just as I had started digging again, my phone rang once more. When I pulled it out, the screen flashed brightly, momentarily blinding me.
Suddenly, I felt a twinge of pain and pressed the answer button. This process took less than five seconds, so Soybean didn’t have time to react.
When the call connected, a woman's voice came through. For some reason, I felt a strange anticipation that this woman had called me.
"Hey..." My voice carried a hint of fatigue.
On the other end of the line, her tone was not intense; rather, it was calm. She said, "You need to think carefully about what it means to dig up a grave. If you’re sure about it, then go ahead and dig. If you're not sure, hang up the phone and run in the opposite direction from the grave."
Her voice was so calm that it made me feel as if I were simply doing something utterly ordinary, like eating a bowl of rice. My mother would say, if you don’t want to eat, then don’t; it’s that simple.
But I froze. My thoughts were still chaotic, as if I hadn’t fully processed what I was about to do. I was digging up a grave—this wasn’t an ordinary thing. To most people, this might be something only a madman would do.
Yet she had just spoken to me so calmly.
"Hey..." I wanted to ask why.
But before I could continue, she interrupted me. "You have five minutes left. If you miss this five minutes, you’ll have to dig up that grave."
With that, the call ended. My gaze turned cold, and the pain in my fingers became more pronounced. My awareness seemed to sharpen a bit; I glanced at my phone, blood smudged across the screen.
I breathed in, but each breath felt heavy, as if pressing against my heartbeat. It felt like every inhale was a struggle, and beads of sweat began to form on my forehead.
The pain intensified, even causing my lips to tremble uncontrollably. I shoved my phone into my pocket; I knew I only had five minutes left.
Should I dig or not? From the woman’s tone, it didn’t seem like such a serious matter.
At that moment, Soybean called out to me: "Brother..."
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