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墨書 Inktalez
The contents of the notes sent shivers down my spine. "Locking Soul," "substitute," "Blood Kin Extradition"—these words lingered in my mind like a spell. The name "A Yu" immediately brought to mind the mysterious presence in the attic that had been weeping.
If "A Yu" was indeed trapped by "Locking Soul" in this old house, then the attic… was it her prison? Was Granduncle San imprisoning her? Or was he… protecting her?
And what about the person secretly causing trouble? Could their goal be related to "A Yu"?
I resolved to find a way into that attic.
The notes mentioned using Sophora Juice for ink. Following the simple instructions, I gathered tender leaves from the Old Huai Tree facing east at dawn, crushed them with a small mortar I had brought, and filtered out the deep green juice. I then carefully dripped it onto Granduncle San's inkstone, which was engraved with a Sophora Flower Pattern, and ground it together with the remnants of ink.
Sure enough, as the juice was added, the unique herbal scent of Ink Fragrance became even more pronounced. I soaked my brush in this special ink, took a deep breath, and approached the tightly locked attic door once more.
This time, instead of touching the rusted Copper Lock, I carefully examined the door itself. Drawing on my experience with restoring antiques, I noticed some extremely fine scratches on the door panel, almost covered by dust. These scratches were chaotic but seemed to form a vague… pattern?
Could it be… that this was the real "lock"? That it needed to be traced with this special ink in a specific stroke order to open?
I recalled the Sophora Flower Pattern at the bottom of the inkstone and thought about the connection between Lin Family Old Residence and Huaiyin Town. A bold guess began to form in my mind. Holding my breath, I carefully dipped my brush into the Huai Ye Mo juice and began to trace a stylized Sophora Flower Pattern on that old door panel.
The brush glided over the rough wood grain as the ink slowly seeped in. The scent of Ink Fragrance and herbs grew clearer in the air.
When I finished the last stroke, a miracle happened!
A faint "click" echoed from within the door panel, as if some hidden mortise structure had been triggered. Immediately after, that seemingly sturdy door slowly opened a crack on its own!
A richer aroma—a mix of dust, herbs, and an indescribable scent reminiscent of aged powder—wafted through the gap.
My heart raced. I gently pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The attic was dimly lit, with only a small window letting in faint light. Thick dust filled the air. The furnishings were simple: a dressing table covered in dust, an old bed draped with a white cloth, and a life-sized wooden puppet standing against the wall!
The puppet wore faded blue cloth similar to that of the moving Old Man Paper Figure outside! Its face was covered by a piece of cloth, obscuring its features.
There were no altars or imprisoned individuals—only this eerie puppet.
Could that weeping sound have come from this puppet?
As I pondered this uncertainty, my gaze fell upon the dressing table. Aside from a dusty bronze mirror, there was a small jewelry box and… an open yellowed Old Diary.
The handwriting in the diary was delicate, clearly penned by a woman. I picked up the diary and turned to the first page, where a familiar name caught my eye—
"A Yu."
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