I Woke up in the Relic

"I", who had been away from home for many years, rushed back to the gloomy old house on the night of my grandma's "first seven". A yellowed suicide note and a delirious uncle warned me sternly: The carved wooden box beside my grandma's bed must not be touched. But on that first night, the contents of the wooden box scratched the lid with its fingernails and begged me, in the voices of my deceased relatives, to open the door for it. When "I" accidentally broke the taboo in extreme fear, the dark secrets of the entire family that spanned hundreds of years surfaced. And "I" was also horrified to find that the self in the mirror was changing day by day to what my grandma looked like before she died.