Tap.
Tap.
At this point, Tokitaka absolutely could no longer suppress his fear.
His face drenched in terror was fully exposed as his teeth involuntarily chattered.
His jaw had gone beyond his control, trembling wildly, and his hands and feet were shaking so much that he felt he might collapse at any moment.
Tap.
Tap.
In the grip of fear, he struggled to move his trembling lips and barely managed to utter a few words.
“Ma, ma, makahan nyahara mitsutashinkyō (Mahāprajñāpāramitā Sutra)…”
It was the mantra his grandmother had once made him memorize long ago.
The Heart Sutra.
‘My child, Japan is a land filled with gods.’
‘But these gods do not always favor humans. If you make them angry, they might unleash terrible punishment.’
‘You must be careful wherever you go; gods can be easily disturbed.’
‘Therefore, I will teach you a mantra to remember well, one that even the gods will fear when faced with the light of the Buddha…’
His grandmother had worriedly insisted that he memorize the mantra. She explained that if he were ever taken by the “kami-kakushi” (the phenomenon where one is hidden by the gods), or if he were cursed by an ill-tempered deity, or if the gods sent down divine punishment in anger, or if an evil ghost or yokai suddenly attacked—this mantra would help him escape danger.
During his childhood, Tokitaka had been deeply moved by a manga about a boy who used spells to exorcise school ghosts. He memorized the mantra thoroughly, and he hadn’t forgotten it until now—not even a single word.
“Kanjizai hossatsu gyōjin han nyahara mitsutajii (Guanyin Bodhisattva, practicing deeply the perfection of wisdom)…”
Thus, it was only natural that the sutra emerged from his lips, soaked in fear.
It was his hope for deliverance from this terrible situation, the one lifeline that could save him.
But.
“…”
“…”
“…”
Reciting the “Heart Sutra” meant that the sound would inevitably escape his lips.
“…”
“…”
“…”
And sounds escaping his lips meant that anyone could hear it.
“Ban.”
“Ya.”
“Shinkyō?”
The moment the sutra passed his lips…
Everyone turned their heads at once to look directly at Tokitaka.
Rather than looking, they were glaring.
“Ban-ya Shinkyō?”
“Ban-ya Shinkyō?”
“What did you just say?”
“Are you reciting… that?”
Their eyes widened so much that they seemed about to bulge out of their sockets as they stared at Tokitaka with intense hostility. Slowly, they began moving toward him in bizarre motions.
Some shuffled forward unnaturally like stiff marionette puppets. Others moved spastically, their legs twitching like rats in distress. A few slid forward without moving their legs, and one twisted his neck grotesquely while walking backward, his head still fixed on Tokitaka in a menacing gaze.
“Huff… Huff…”
Their appearance was nothing short of grotesque, terrifying, and dreadful.
A sight one would never wish to see even in dreams.
Tokitaka began to feel as though he were in the middle of a nightmare, and instinctively pinched his cheek hard, hoping to awaken from it.
“It doesn’t hurt…?”
But even with all his strength, he felt no pain from pinching his cheek.
For a moment, Tokitaka seriously considered whether he might still be dreaming, but then he clenched his teeth.
‘No. This isn’t a dream. I’m being deluded.’
It wasn’t a dream—it was reality.
If he kept thinking he was dreaming, he’d surely die.
Summoning every ounce of urgency he could muster, Tokitaka forced his frozen body to move. He clenched his big toe as if breaking free of a paralysis, but when his legs still wouldn’t budge, he swung his fists and harshly struck his thighs.
Thud!
The heavy sound resonated like hitting a sandbag.
A sharp pain surged through his legs, followed by a slight trembling, as if they were finally regaining life.
‘They’re moving!’
Had the shock therapy worked?
The legs that had barely moved once now followed his will and came back to life.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!”
Without looking back at the grotesque figures closing in on him, Tokitaka began running with all his might.
Pretending to act normally?
Pretending to be calm?
None of that mattered now.
The situation had escalated, and he had to escape as quickly as possible.
Thud-thud-thud.
He was running.
He ran.
His silvery-white hair, the eerie movements of the people pursuing him, and their suffocating gazes—all of these accompanied him as he raced forward like a madman.
But no matter how fast he ran, the presence behind him refused to fade.
‘What should I do? What should I do?’
He was going to be caught.
A sense of impending doom rose in Tokitaka’s heart.
He had to shake them off. And then he remembered something:
‘That’s right—they reacted to the Heart Sutra!’
It was the exact mantra that had turned all eyes toward him the moment it left his lips.
“Shoken go un kai ku u to its sai ku yaku (By revealing the five aggregates, everything can be freed from suffering)…”
Tokitaka strained his now-graying mind to recite the next lines of the Heart Sutra, despite his disoriented state.
“Sharizya shiki fui ku u ku u fui shiki (Form is no different from emptiness, and emptiness is no different from form)…”
He believed that the mantra could protect him, shield him from these incomprehensible beings. As he recited the sutra aloud, his limbs moved instinctively, running and staggering without pause.
In this state of near delirium, Tokitaka ran tirelessly until the ominous presence behind him finally faded.
“Huff… Huff… Huff…”
Only then did he stop and crumble to the ground.
His vision blurred and distorted, rendering everything indistinguishable. The world appeared a sickly yellow, each breath felt like his lungs were being torn apart, and the air he inhaled never seemed sufficient. His arms and legs convulsed uncontrollably, though strangely, he felt no pain—only a terrifying absence of sensation.
His mouth exuded a metallic smell, saliva uncontrollably dribbling down his chin to soak his clothes. Sweat poured from him in torrents, drenching his entire body as if he had just emerged from a pond. Heat radiated from his body, making him long desperately for even a slight cooling breeze.
“Huff… Huff…”
Tokitaka continued to gasp for breath, dragging himself forward inch by inch. He managed to find a wall-like surface he could lean against, collapsing against it and bowing his head as he struggled to catch his breath.
How long had he been recovering?
As time passed, Tokitaka gradually regained some clarity.
Though his mind still felt somewhat sluggish from the exertion, he was now capable of coherent thoughts. His vision cleared, the lingering dizziness subsided, and the oppressive heat in his body began to subside.
“Where… am I?”
As he regained his breath, Tokitaka looked around.
He was in a forest.
The tree he leaned against was a cypress, and the ground beneath him was earth. The trees swayed their leaves gently, providing a serene atmosphere, and the occasional cloud drifted through the sky above.
“I… survived.”
Breathing in the scent of the forest through his nose, Tokitaka finally realized it—the truth of his survival.
He had escaped safely from the cursed mansion.
The strange, ominous presences that had chased him were no longer perceptible.
The silhouette of the villa was out of sight.
The briny scent of the lake had faded.
The bizarre creatures that had pursued him were gone.
He was safe now.
Tokitaka placed his hand over his still-racing heart.
It was meant to calm himself, to remind himself that everything was alright now.
But his heart kept pounding as though warning him that the danger had not completely passed, urging him to be vigilant and observe his surroundings.
Summoning the strength to reassure his racing heart, Tokitaka slowly turned his head to glance around cautiously.
Surely, finding nothing would further ease his mind?
But as he looked around with such light-hearted intent, he saw something unmistakably out of place.
“Er… eh…?”
There was a person.
A man in his 30s was leaning against a tree, watching him intently.
The man, with a distinctive round eyebrow, looked displeased as he fidgeted with his necktie and breathed heavily, as though he had been running.
“S-s-s-someone.”
Tokitaka, startled by the man’s appearance, tried to leap to his feet.
After all, at this point, any human figure could only be from the “House of Death.”
But his body, worn out from his escape, failed to obey. The very attempt to get up caused his legs to collapse under him, and Tokitaka tumbled onto the ground, rolling in the dirt.
Still, he didn’t give up.
‘I have to run.’
With quivering arms, he desperately pushed against the ground, trying to lift himself.
To stand up and flee.
“Hey.”
Perhaps the sight of his desperate struggle made the man feel awkward.
The man, still leaning against the tree, called out to him.
“Calm down.”
Then, moving slowly toward Tokitaka, he pulled a notebook from his suit pocket and opened it.
A circle with a pentagram, and within it, the image of a paper doll.
“I’m from the Yin-Yang Division.”
