After my death, I did not reincarnate. Instead, I became a ghost in the ghost story with my parents and brother.
In this world where humans have long been familiar with weird stories, we are no longer the hunted prey, but the masters who set the rules.
My mother went to other secret places to work and cook, my brother took orders to hunt down intruders, my father stabilized our family, and I was the trapper weaving deadly rules.
The humans who broke in thought they were explorers, but little did they know that they were just nourishment for us to upgrade.
Follow the rules? That just makes their death more ritualistic.
What I want to do is to use seemingly daily rules to make them a ladder for us to become stronger in the midst of fear and despair.
This is a strange world, with work, daily life, and... The rule of killing without mercy.
