The Netherworld Post Horse

When fate grinds you into the deepest mire, whether you are crippled by chronic illness, your family business has collapsed, or you have just lost a loved one, an invitation from the underworld will quietly arrive. Perhaps it is a yellowed scroll seeped with dark red writing, or an old-fashioned telegram written in blood, directing you to a vague address and a suffocatingly precise "check-in time," down to the second. At the same time, a burning horseshoe brand will appear on your skin like an invisible shackle, driving you toward the boundary between life and death.

The basement of an abandoned funeral home, the end of a midnight subway tunnel, a desolate roadside inn that vanishes at dawn, or even a cold iron door silently opening in your bedroom wall... These spaces, where the laws of reality are warped, reek of aged paper ash, heavy rust, and a faint, sweet stench of decay. They are the selection grounds of "Yima Express." Here, space itself is the examiner: corridors stretch endlessly before suddenly contracting, walls are covered in pulsing vein-like patterns, and ghostly green phosphorescence twists your shadow, making it betray you and dance alone.

The interview is a torture that strips away your humanity. An invisible force slices across your wrist, and you "see" your blood turn dark green, or witness your own rotting corpse in an instant. This confirms that half your body has already entered the underworld. Then comes the "trial of the heart": inhuman questions roar through your mind: "What must be used to subdue a package that 'cannot be delivered'?" The scene before your eyes suddenly tears apart, transforming into a hell forged from your most painful memories. A "loved one" with vacant eyes shoves a blood-soaked package into your hands and shrieks, "Deliver it now! Use yourself as the price!" Viscous blood gathers on the wall