Everyone says: if you believe ghosts exist in this world, it’s because you harbor ghosts within your heart. And precisely because everyone says this, I always believed ghosts couldn’t possibly be real—after all, my heart held no ghosts.
But standing here now, I suddenly realized I’d been wrong all along.
True “seeing ghosts” isn’t just stumbling upon Sadako with her long, disheveled hair beside a dark, dry well, or accidentally meeting Kayako crawling down a dim staircase.
It means encountering anything utterly incomprehensible—yet deadly.
That is what truly deserves the name “seeing ghosts.”
...
...
The moment an icy hand seized my ankle, a bell-like chime erupted from above—from within the Royal Citadel. No warning. Unlike a temple bell, this sound never ceased: a continuous, high-pitched, high-decibel wave of eerie noise. Faint beneath it, countless human whispers wove through the chime—like a mournful dirge, or sutras chanted in sorrow. Desolate. Hollow. Terrifying.
My soul felt ripped away, devoured by the sound. An invisible arm clamped my throat. I could no longer inhale—only exhale in ragged, failing gasps.
...
Only when a sharp stab pierced my calf did searing pain wrench me back.
I cried out, twisted free from the cold grip, and stumbled aside. Gasping, I stared into the darkness—where indistinct creatures twitched and writhed.
Where I’d stood, a strange humanoid crawled toward me. Its withered, bluish hands bore long, sharp nails. One—on the middle finger—gleamed crimson. That was what had stabbed me.
I spun to Wei Qiuying. She stood frozen, entranced, short blade gripped tight, tip aimed at her own abdomen—poised for seppuku.
“No!” I lunged, tackled her. Off-balance, we tumbled down a slope, rolling blindly. My back slammed hard against a thick stone pillar—I nearly coughed blood onto her face.
But we stopped.
Thankfully, the knife had flown from her hand during the fall. Otherwise, I’d be full of holes.
...
“Snap out of it!”
I yanked off her night-vision goggles and slapped her cheeks firmly.
Beneath her slightly swollen flesh-toned mask, her large black eyes snapped back from vacancy.
“W-what the hell was that?! An air raid siren?!”
She covered her ears, pushed me away, stood. Scanned the shadows. Glanced at me. Then past the pillar—and froze.
I pulled myself up beside her.
“You were possessed. Tried seppuku. I stopped you—”
I turned.
And froze too.
Her flashlight beam revealed it: right behind the pillar lay the bottomless chasm.
Staring into the endless void, my legs trembled. I stepped back twice, swallowed hard.
“Was that… good luck or bad?” I asked with a bitter smile.
Wei Qiuying ignored me. Dug at her ears, tapped her head, face tight with pain.
“Call it luck…” She gritted her teeth, gazing up at the colossal silhouette of the Royal Citadel—the sound’s origin.
...
“Our position’s too low. Hard to assess the situation. That old fox Yan An might’ve already crossed the bridge while we were down here!”
Wei Qiuying tore two gauze strips, stuffed them in her ears, and moved toward the Royal Citadel.
Only then did the pain in my calf flare—sharp, relentless. I thought of that ghostly hand. Climbing up felt unwise. But the maddening noise left no room for calm thought. I drew my dagger and followed.
...
Strangely, nothing crossed our path—not even a ghostly shadow.
And silently, the sound had stopped. I checked my watch: nearly fifteen minutes.
“That was the longest fifteen minutes of my life.”
...
We reached the base of the Royal Citadel’s gate—a stone door seven to eight meters tall, five to six wide. One leaf wider than the other, defying classical design. The gate stood wide open. The road beyond: empty.
The paved road spanned ten meters, neat and gently sloped. Steep rocky inclines flanked it, forming a trapezoid shape.
We ducked into a recessed rocky hollow on the left slope to rest.
Drenched in sweat—as if fresh from a sauna—I leaned against the stone, breath ragged, body limp.
“What *was* that sound? I feel hollowed out,” I muttered, utterly spent.
“It drains your body *and* hijacks your mind. Terrifying… fucking terrifying,” Wei Qiuying whispered, rubbing her temples.
“Any logic behind it?” I stroked my chin.
“San Yuan Chao Dun employs Liu Jia; Bagua flows through the Nine Palaces.”
She muttered words I couldn’t grasp, pulled out a compass, checked her watch.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk…”
“When the hour aligns with Liu Gui, none shall look. Ignorance of Liu Gui brings death upon stepping out. Earth Plate Gui forms the Earth Net—favorable for concealment. All else: ominous!”
“Great misfortune! Great misfortune!” she breathed.
...
“What the hell are you muttering?” I snapped. Sounded like fortune-telling—but felt like spooky theater.
She tucked the compass away, adjusted her mask, whispered:
“Today, avoid *all* danger. No direct fights. Extremely dangerous.”
“I wouldn’t charge headfirst anyway!”
The words left my mouth—and her hand clamped over it. She flipped me into her arms.
In that instant, I saw what she saw:
Two faint red dots, swaying eerily on the stone road ahead.
Less than three meters away…
...
...
