The day my grandfather was buried, the coffin knocked three times.
Everyone in the village ran away. I was the only one who stayed.
I whipped away the black mist rising from the coffin with willow branches. The whole thing was captured by a patrol officer’s body camera.
Three days later, a black sedan drove into the village. The people who got out said,
“The National Institute for the Study of Anomalous Affairs. We’re recruiting you into our ranks.”
Only later did I learn
The mountain my grandfather had guarded for sixty years concealed the seal holding down the entire Dragon Vein.
Now the seal has cracked.
The things beneath the mountain have been hungry for far too long.
