Ever since I fell into the Black Dragon Pool, my childhood companions have died one after another. I seem to have fallen under the same curse, too. Later, thanks to a bargain between my grandmother and a mysterious person, I was given more time to live. I then followed that person and learned magic arts to protect myself.
From then on, I embarked on a path from which there was no easy return: digging up corpses in the dead of night, school ghost stories, chains in haunted houses...
The funerary coffin sent in July, the struggle between ancient clans that I was drawn into, and the worthless beads all seem to be connected to that mysterious person by countless unseen threads.
After we unravel the clues, will human nature withstand the test?
When we wake from dreams in the middle of the night, what do we really see: ghosts wearing human skin, or people hiding among a hundred ghosts?
