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墨書 Inktalez
If in the past, Song Bunan lived in a world filled with mythical tales and ghost stories, now his dreams and that old house had turned those tales into reality. The contents written in this notebook addressed to “Special Individual” not only shattered his imagination but also left him unable to discern truth from falsehood.
The original owner of the notebook wrote things that seemed absurd, yet based on his own experiences, they felt all too real. The notebook referred to that old house as Long Family, and although the name of the second disciple was not mentioned, it clearly stated “Long Family Orphan”.
【When my friend and I found him in this house, he was only three years old, hiding in a wardrobe and trembling. Seeing that he was young yet exceptionally bright, I asked if he wanted to leave this place to learn some skills. The child clutched my clothes and asked if he could return home. I didn’t know how to answer, so it was my friend who carried him outside the garden and somehow persuaded him to join me.】
【This house was located in a Gathering Yin Land, and the builders must have understood the principles of Feng Shui, turning this large garden into a haunted house. The Long Family unknowingly moved in, becoming part of that ghostly domain. Fortunately, the child’s fate was not destined for demise; he had a family deity protecting him, which saved his life. Because of this peculiar situation, my friend and I decided to enclose the garden as a wasteland to prevent the spirits within from escaping, though some risks still 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 about the ley lines through our secret methods, but due to the drastic changes he experienced at home, his heart was filled with resentment towards ghosts. As a result, his actions became ruthless and merciless, and the ley line techniques made him lose clarity of mind, making it easy for him to become lost.】
【You are Special Individual, destined to visit this house before it devoured all lives of the Long Family. Though you are tainted by ghostly energy, it does not threaten your life; you are merely afflicted by a stubborn ailment. Please rest assured; your ailment can be cured if my friend or her descendants meet you. Please help this house within your capabilities to break the curse of gathering shadows and grant freedom to the spirits within.】
【The spirits in this house include both good and evil; I believe you have encountered some of the malevolent ones. 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 content abruptly ended, leaving him puzzled as he found the entire notebook reverted back to its 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 hands but found no answers; feeling frustrated, he put it away in a 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. The next step was to recall if he had encountered any of those so-called malevolent beings. Lying on his bed made him drowsy; coupled with the warm sunlight flooding into his room at noon, after a short while of trying to remember those malevolent beings, Song Bunan fell asleep.
In dreams where only Dragon Garden existed before, he had never experienced dreaming during daytime sleep. Therefore, standing at the brand-new entrance of Dragon Garden, he knew for certain that he must be dreaming—daydreaming.
The house before him seemed newly built; its door was pristine with black iron decorations gleaming under sunlight due to its coating. The Western-style high-rise villa resembled castles seen in movies, surrounded by flowers and grass with cats and dogs occasionally darting by. In this dream state, he appeared very small; standing beside him was his mother who seemed amused by something on her phone without paying attention to him.
He pulled away 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 tight; he could barely fit one arm through. After several fruitless attempts, just as he turned back to ask his mother what was happening now, someone walked out from inside.
A woman.
It seemed like there wasn’t enough budget for creating this woman’s image in his dream; even though she stood right before him wearing red clothes, no matter how hard he squinted or focused, he couldn’t make out her features clearly. Startled by this dream’s built-in blurriness effect, he wanted to turn back for his mother but found her face just as indistinct. Yet how could he still know she was laughing on a phone call?
Standing between these two women while watching his own hands grow smaller and pudgier made him reminisce about when his hands looked like that.
Perhaps due to having no childhood memories connected with himself, he couldn’t imagine what age those chubby little hands belonged to. After all, since he could remember anything at all, his body had always been described as thin as a toothpick.
Moreover, deep down he knew this was a dream; after pondering age without any fruitful conclusions, he decided not to think anymore but rather find a way to wake himself up. In previous dreams before waking up there would always be signs—like encountering monsters that killed him or being thrown off rooftops while standing on a second floor. It seemed that only death could be the key to waking up from dreams. But now there was nothing around him—just two increasingly blurry women chatting together.
Gathering courage, he called out “Mom” while staring at one of those indistinct figures whose outlines faded away as soon as he spoke—like mist blown away by wind. The woman who walked out from the house vanished too; as they disappeared together, the house reverted back to its dilapidated state from memory—the once pristine door now crooked and swaying before him as if it could collapse with just a sneeze.
His body didn’t revert back into an adult form; hesitating whether or not to step inside again made him feel an oppressive sensation creeping up behind him. He hurriedly walked forward until reaching the door’s edge and turned around only to find what should have been trees and low grass behind him replaced by bare ground—along with that green-faced monster with a big mouth whom he encountered last time inside.
The monster stood not far behind without making any other movements; although it had no eyes, Song Bunan could clearly sense its intense gaze fixed upon him.
He recalled what Xiao Mei said about it being a house ghost, having specifically researched what exactly a house ghost did—now Song Bunan wasn’t particularly afraid anymore since he hadn’t done anything destructive towards this house. He straightened his chest facing it directly and asked: “What time is it? Why am I seeing this place during daylight?”
The green-faced big-mouthed house ghost slowly approached until it stood parallel with him on all fours like a spider—but far more visually impactful than any spider could ever be. At such close proximity, Song Bunan got a clear look at its features: its enormous mouth spanned across its entire face filled with three rows of densely packed teeth; its lips were flesh-colored against its blue skin creating an even more striking contrast—with a thin black line running vertically down its center.
The house ghost kept tilting its head as if observing him closely; as it drew nearer still, Song Bunan caught a whiff of water.
The rich scent reminded him of freshly fallen rain on grass—a dampness mixed with hints of greenery—a refreshing aroma that relaxed him despite being incongruous with its presence. This scent calmed Song Bunan, who already loved the smell after rain.
He extended his chubby little hand unique to dreams toward the house ghost: “I’m called Song Bunan.”
However, his outstretched hand went unnoticed; after sizing him up thoroughly, the house ghost straightened itself up and walked around him into the courtyard—its body effortlessly passing through solid objects before gradually becoming transparent until vanishing completely.
Looking around once more left only himself standing there; Song Bunan retracted his hand and rubbed his face feeling like now would be an appropriate time for music—but couldn’t decide whether to play “Little Cabbage” or “Moonlight Over Second Spring.”
With no way back through that door and no path surrounding him either—the dream trapped him in an isolated space without indicating what it wanted from him—was it merely inviting him for sightseeing around this beautiful old house during daytime?
The surroundings were eerily quiet, with only his breathing accompanying him. It was a bit boring, but mostly lonely. Fortunately, he sat there waiting for this dream to change on its own, silently urging himself to wake up. However, the more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became.
In a fit of exasperation, he decided to check his pockets in the dream for something to alleviate his boredom. He shoved both hands deep into his pockets and felt something in his right pocket. It was a rope-like object, cool to the touch.
Inside 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 in white jade. The pendant was too small for him to discern what it depicted even after examining it for a long time. Still, having something to play with was better than nothing. He decided to mimic his father's habit and began to twist it around his fingers.
The jade pendant felt incredibly delicate, gliding smoothly between his fingertips as he moved. Unconsciously, he started to feel drowsy while playing with the jade; his eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and his mind began to fog over. Yet, Song Bunan still retained some awareness, wondering if he could possibly experience a dream within a dream since he was already dreaming. As these thoughts swirled in his mind, sleepiness consumed the last remnants of his rationality. Overcome by drowsiness and losing his sense of balance, he fell backward, only to feel his head hit something soft.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in his bedroom, sunlight streaming over him. However, the time had changed; it was now three o'clock.
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