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墨書 Inktalez
At four in the afternoon, it was clear he had slept for a full ten hours.
Shi Mo glanced at the time on his phone, feeling an indescribable discomfort in his heart. His mind was alert, even vibrant, but his body felt utterly exhausted, as if the dream he had experienced was all too real.
As he opened the door, sunlight poured in, warm and comforting, but the wind was so strong it could not be ignored. Shi Mo watched as the flowers in the garden swayed wildly, and even tiles from the roof had fallen to the ground, shattered into pieces. The butler's bedroom door remained tightly shut, indicating that the residents preferred to avoid daylight.
He stretched luxuriously under the sun to alleviate his discomfort before heading back inside to put on a windbreaker and grab a broom from the kitchen. The tiles here were specially made. Shi Mo picked up a shard and examined it closely, noticing intricate patterns on each piece that, when assembled, resembled a flower with many petals.
The thickness and texture of these tiles were unlike any he had seen before; they seemed to be specially fired glazed tiles, crafted with a frosted finish and engraved with designs. The edges of the fragments were sharp and neat, and there wasn’t much debris when he swept them together.
Shi Mo piled the debris in a corner where it wouldn’t be blown away by the wind, planning to inform the butler later that there was garbage needing to be cleared. As he stood up and walked toward the kitchen, he suddenly noticed an unusual expanse of black at the horizon near the mountains.
It appeared to be a mass of moving dark clouds, swiftly approaching him on the wind. As it drew nearer, it grew larger, blocking out all light and casting an overwhelming darkness. Shi Mo thought this must be a sign of an impending downpour and hurried into the kitchen, hoping that no orders would come in during such rainy weather.
The wind intensified further, lifting something that thudded against the kitchen door with a loud bang, sending shivers down Shi Mo's spine. He recalled a time from his childhood when his village experienced similar weather; one moment it was clear skies, and before he could walk home from the fields, dark clouds overtook him. Raindrops as large as quail eggs pelted him painfully until he sought refuge in a dilapidated house at the edge of the village.
The wind back then was just as fierce as it was now, causing that broken house to sway precariously. Rain poured through every crack, making it impossible to see clearly inside or out. He huddled under a rickety table in a corner, his wet clothes clinging to him while the cold wind chilled him to the bone.
Since then, he had developed a fear of stormy days filled with thick clouds; even slight changes in light made him feel uneasy. Thankfully, the kitchen lights were bright, and the sturdy door kept out the rain while also providing warmth due to various machines running inside.
Within two minutes, the outside world turned completely dark; the sounds of wind and rain made Shi Mo shiver involuntarily. He curled up on the floor with his knees hugged to his chest and opened a mobile game to distract himself from looking out at the pitch-black window. The transparent glass panes were humanity's great invention for seeking light but felt like a terrifying barrier for him at that moment—like a horror movie protagonist facing unknown dangers.
The brightness inside contrasted sharply with the utter darkness outside; everything visible was an indistinguishable deep shade where sky met earth. Occasionally raindrops would strike against the glass but vanished almost instantly.
The sounds of the game allowed Shi Mo to temporarily forget about what lay beyond those windows as he immersed himself in a virtual world. The storm outside synchronized perfectly with the game's narrative, creating an immersive experience. The only downside was that he was alone here; even without headphones playing sound effects aloud felt eerily quiet.
This is the top floor, standing tall in the center surrounded by mountains and wasteland. On ordinary days, even the wind here is stronger than in the city, and now the rain falls like it has been specially cared for, with droplets pounding against the building impatiently.
In the game, it is also raining. The character, searching for clues, traverses countless perilous places. Unlike reality, there is light within the game. A lamp that will not extinguish in the rain floats ahead of him, illuminating both him and the path beneath his feet despite the surrounding darkness.
As the light guides him to a temple, a familiar save icon appears in the lower right corner of the screen. The sound of rain, much softer than in the real world, gradually fades away, replaced by a soothing piano melody that lifts Shi Mo's spirits, dispelling any discomfort brought on by the gloomy weather.
Checking the time, he realizes it is already dinner time. The rain outside shows no signs of stopping, and the machines remain silent in the distance, as if those who have long departed from this world also prefer not to stir in such weather.
Shi Mo decides to prepare some late-night snacks for himself and A Yue. The butler had frozen a package of cleaned Little Yellow Fish in the seafood section without him noticing, leaving a note stating it was an employee benefit for him to handle.
With scallions and ginger water mixed with a bit of Thirteen Spices for marination, he prepares to fry them. He sets aside dry flour on a plate while heating oil; in about ten minutes, he can coat each small fish in flour and fry them. After frying them three times, Little Yellow Fish becomes crispy all the way through—bones and all. Sprinkled with pepper salt and chili powder while hot, even if they cool down, they can still be enjoyed easily.
Standing by the stove, Shi Mo focuses intently on his task. He watches as the small fish bend under the high temperature of the oil; most of their white eyes are obscured by flour and lack focus. Yet there are a few that haven’t yet entered the pot, seemingly staring at him with strange eyes filled with reluctance through that layer of powder.
He is a chef; he has handled hundreds of fish before, but this feeling is unique. He cannot comprehend why this situation arises, yet given his earlier strange experiences, he manages to remain calm. He uses long chopsticks to pick up those few fish and slides them into the oil along the edge of the pot. The dense white bubbles instantly obscure all sight, leaving only the sizzling sounds responding to his confusion.
Logically speaking, encountering bizarre events here has surpassed anything he has experienced in over twenty years of life. He could—and should—seek out his parents or brothers to share these feelings to alleviate his discomfort from misunderstanding. However, deep down he fears that these extraordinary matters might cause them worry.
Most importantly are his own thoughts. The invitation here was unexpected; the generous reward was what drew him in. The mystery and uniqueness of this building were like a high-explosive bomb against ordinary life. His curiosity, his yearning for mystery, and his desire to break free from mediocrity were ignited—even if accompanied by ghosts or deities.
It is what I willingly chose. Shi Mo quickly accepts his inner thoughts and prepares himself to face the unknown and terrifying.
As the last fish undergoes its third fry in the oil, all eyes become indistinguishable; no gaze rests upon him anymore—only his own looks toward them. Shi Mo feels that his gaze should be filled with joy and anticipation because that fried Little Yellow Fish will indeed taste delicious.
A massive lightning bolt struck outside the house, illuminating the surroundings with a fleeting flash of white light that seemed to strike just outside the kitchen door. The thunder that followed shook the windows and doors, rattling everything in the building.
Shi Mo instinctively turned to look out the window. It was pitch black, but just as his gaze focused on the outside, another bright flash of lightning lit up the area, revealing a figure standing outside.
The woman’s face was ashen and lifeless, her long black hair clung to her face like writhing snakes, making her look terrifying. Her features were grotesquely swollen and distorted, rendering her unrecognizable. Her bulging blood-red eyes fixed on him with an unsettling intensity that sent chills down his spine. Rainwater streamed down her high cheekbones, mingling with her expressionless face, adding to the eerie and horrific atmosphere.
The shocking sight caused Shi Mo to gasp, instinctively reaching for something to protect himself in case this apparition entered the kitchen. However, all he had nearby were a pair of long chopsticks and a bubbling pot of oil. Perhaps sensing the tension in the air, a fish in the pot suddenly exploded, splattering hot oil onto Shi Mo's hand. The searing pain made him wince, and when he looked down to inspect his injury and then back up, the ghostly figure had vanished as if it had been nothing but a figment of his imagination.
The pain was real. Shi Mo was certain that the ghost was real too. Due to the height of the window, he could only see her head outside, but he vaguely noticed that her clothing at the shoulders was a pale blue color, not resembling anything modern.
Memories flooded back as Shi Mo recalled an incident from his childhood when he had sought refuge from a storm in Broken House. The darkness inside and outside terrified him; covering his ears and afraid to open his eyes, he heard footsteps approaching from outside. The person walked leisurely through the rain with a rhythmic pace, making a distinct splashing sound with each step.
Gathering his courage, he opened his eyes just as another flash of lightning illuminated the darkness momentarily. He saw a woman with long black hair pass by Broken House’s door. She didn’t carry an umbrella and walked slightly hunched over, moving steadily as if she didn’t mind the rain at all.
At that moment, Shi Mo’s fear of nature peaked; he thought she must enjoy rainy weather and fervently wished for it to stop.
The sensation and appearance of that ghostly figure matched his memories perfectly; Shi Mo was convinced they were one and the same—or rather, one ghost.
Meanwhile, Ah Yue lamented over a plate of charred Little Yellow Fish, squatting beside the table as she tried to scrape off the burnt bits with a knife. She glared at Shi Mo with fury, contemplating throwing him into the pot of oil to fry him as punishment.
“I’m really sorry,” Shi Mo sincerely apologized, pressing his palms together not only to express regret for ruining the fish but also for upsetting Ah Yue over wasted food. The little girl adopted an elderly demeanor, tossing aside her knife while shaking her head and sighing dramatically as if Shi Mo had committed an unforgivable crime.
Fortunately, there was still another plate that hadn’t burned; it had been fried before Shi Mo’s encounter with the ghost. Although it had absorbed some moisture and lost its crispiness, it was still perfectly edible. The angry girl abandoned her efforts to salvage the other plate and took it away while declaring that he would be punished by having to eat burnt food tonight.
Shi Mo noticed that A Yue had calmed down, and he forced a smile as he walked out of the kitchen. Outside, the dark clouds had dispersed, and the autumn sun illuminated the earth, making it hard to believe it had been pitch black just moments ago. Shi Mo stood where the ghost had appeared, carefully observing his surroundings in an attempt to find clues about her, but aside from the rain-soaked tiles that emitted a faint fishy smell, there was nothing else.
Was she a ghost that only appeared during heavy rain? Shi Mo squatted by the windowsill and yawned, feeling the last rays of sunlight warm him enough to chase away the chill.
As he pondered the origins of the ghost, A Yue emerged from the kitchen with a plate in hand. Unable to squat in her qipao, she leaned awkwardly against the wall and asked him why he suddenly seemed deep in thought. Shi Mo rotated his stiff neck and glanced at the flowerbed, where a few flowers had been knocked down by the rain and lay muddy on the ground.
"I wasn't contemplating life; I just saw a ghost when it rained earlier," Shi Mo replied. His answer piqued A Yue's interest, and a small fish quickly found its way to his mouth as he looked up to see her eyes filled with curiosity for stories. He understood what that look meant and took the fish, chewing while recounting what had just happened, including a childhood experience related to it, and expressing his suspicion that both sightings were of the same person.
A Yue agreed with his suspicion and began to tell him a story he had never heard before.
Once upon a time, there was a small fishing village where the villagers made their living by fishing. One summer day, the fishermen returned with unsettling news: the sea was unusually quiet, and they couldn't catch a single fish. At first, everyone thought it was just an accident; however, half a month passed with still no fish in sight, as if all of them had mysteriously vanished.
Without any income, the fishermen wore worried expressions day after day, unsure of what to do. Some young fishermen whose savings were running low decided to take the risk and venture out to investigate. Despite their concerns, no one could stop them; they could only pray for them from afar as they set out into the sea. The young men dove into the water, expecting to find nothing but desolation beneath the surface. To their surprise, not far below them swam countless fish of various sizes darting around.
However, these fish swam too quickly; no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't catch even one. With no other option left, they surfaced to report back. One of them, who could hold his breath exceptionally well, swam deeper and discovered a palm-sized clam next to a coral reef. When he opened it up, he found two pearls inside that were about the size of soybeans—smooth and round, shimmering with enchanting colors under the sunlight. The fishermen who often sold goods in town estimated that if these two pearls were taken to sell in the city, they would be enough for a family to live worry-free for an entire year.
From then on, every household began learning how to harvest pearls. Those who couldn't dive waited onshore to help open clams and clean pearls. This lifestyle continued until winter arrived; due to the cold weather, villagers were reluctant to dive for clams anymore since they felt their savings were sufficient. They lazily settled into their lives.
One day, however, a strangely dressed man appeared in the village. His clothes were woven from seaweed, and he had scales on his body; he was handsome and robust—clearly not an ordinary person. The villagers were terrified and quickly shut their doors against him. However, one little girl from a family worried that he might freeze took out a blanket and threw it over the wall to him. Gratefully, he returned her kindness with a pearl—this one was as wide as an adult's thumb and shimmered with a faint pink glow under sunlight, more precious than any pearl harvested before.
The man explained that this was a Winter Pearl found only in clams during winter. He revealed his purpose: he was from a clan of mermen living in the sea. In recent years, their territory had been increasingly invaded by clam tribes; struggling against their hard shells made effective attacks impossible. Eventually, they discovered that humans on land had ways to deal with clam tribes and came specifically seeking human assistance.
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