In our line of work, we don't deal with corpses. We deal with the lingering obsessions that refuse to leave this world, and the secrets neither the living nor the dead dare to speak of.
My name is Chen Mo. I only wanted to tend my family's coffin shop and coast through life, but I was forced to inherit the ancient craft of the Coffin Sinker. A white coffin weeping in the night, a ghost's reflection in a well, a dead soul on a theater stage... Behind every cursed coffin that cannot be laid to rest lies a grievance buried in darkness. I measure the boundary between yin and yang with inked string, speak to the dead through blood talismans, and sink one resentment-filled coffin after another into a desolate place no ordinary person can reach.
Then I discovered that the Dragon-Suppressing Stele, which maintains the balance of this world, was cracking. My bloodline, my fate, even the mysterious deaths of my parents were all tightly bound to the nameless ancient horror sealed beneath the stele.
As the final contract is about to be torn apart, I raise my right hand, carved with runes, and face the gaze from the abyss. They ask me who I really am.
I say:
My name is Coffin Sinker. I bury gods, and I bury ghosts.
