My Years Working in a Funeral Home

My life was saved by a ghost. Some experts said that I was born with a shrine physique and could nourish each other with the possessed ghosts, so I chose to work in a funeral parlor. The flame in the incinerator goes out for no apparent reason; The girl whose hands and feet were cut off cried for the jar her mother used to put her in; The burned corpse suddenly sat up and let out a shrill scream; The owner of the paper-making shop called the paper figurine his wife in the middle of the night; Don't make a fuss, There is no such thing as a funeral parlor. Let me tell you a story. Don't believe it.