On the desk sat a life-sized doll.
The enormous doll, made by weaving branches and straw, looked like an exaggerated version of Jeoong and resembled the dolls used for curses in Japan. Alternatively, it appeared to be a human-sized replica of a giant sculpture commonly found in front of large buildings.
Jinseong grabbed the doll’s belly with both hands and flung it open.
As if he were tearing it apart.
Crack!
With the sound of tearing, the doll’s belly split wide open, and a foul stench began to waft out.
Stench.
Instead of grimacing at the pungent smell, Jinseong wore a pleased smile, as if all was well.
The disgusting odor that emanates when insects decay.
A smell distinct from rotting flesh and decaying plants, one that jabs right at your nose.
This was proof that the core mechanism of the doll had thoroughly decayed.
That core was something commonly found in nature.
Like bugs sucking sap from trees, or caterpillars gnawing on leaves to grow, or insects devouring other bugs as they matured.
Inside the doll was a mass of rotting insects.
Since it was made from materials sourced from wood, having insects inside made it resemble nature.
With a shape that mimicked a human being and the insides logically filled with human organs, it was akin to a person consuming food and digesting it.
“With flesh originating from nature, standing on bones that came from nature itself. To have within you what was once alive, yet merely holding onto it until it decays within you feels like observing a starving coward. This coward ate the food but could not bring himself to kill the living, so he can’t digest and is left to rot until unspeakable decay takes over. Hoarding the rotting while the insects consume it, you lack the courage to release it. Cowardly one, cowardly doll that hides in the forest, blessed by its grace.”
Jinseong jabbed at the doll while chanting an invocation, as if mocking the coward, tormenting it with disdain.
Thus, Jinseong pricked at the doll with his finger, verbalizing contemptuous words and threatening it.
“The warriors that chased you away deemed you unworthy to mingle with others. Just fleeing changes nothing about the fact that you’re a coward, hence the king of the forest decreed you, a coward unfit even to be prey, be banished from his territory. Now, consuming fear injects life into your frozen veins, as blood begins to flow, and you shall walk, cast out from the forest. Go, go, go. Depart the forest and head into the herd abandoned by warriors. Undertake the commands birthed from fright and intimidation, fulfilling your duty as the coward that you are.”
Chwaak.
The bottle of holy water in Jinseong’s hand popped open.
The lid lifted off, and the liquid flowed into the doll’s exposed belly along with his arm.
Holy water, some of it oozed out like blood while most absorbed inside, disappearing from view. As the holy water vanished, strange occurrences began.
Change.
It was a transformation.
Tududuk.
The hollowed belly of the doll began to move.
The dead plants writhed as if animated.
Branches sprouted with vitality, straightening out from their once-crouched positions.
Vines twisted and wriggled like snakes.
Worms gathered together, moving grotesquely as if engaged in a mating dance, relentlessly healing the opened wounds.
Wriggle.
The innards stowed within its belly churned to digest the rotting insects, inflating and deflating repeatedly. It looked as though it were rapidly alternating between digesting and bingeing, or perhaps trying inelegantly to mimic breathing without lungs.
Mimicking was the only thing done for it at this point, given its shape was somewhat human-like.
Watching it triggered an uncanny valley sensation, invoking feelings of bizarre strangeness.
“You coward, my messenger. Though you are not heated, you are to duly move following my command, blessed with blood. Though you have no eyes, you must seek and find your way. And though you cannot ask with a mouth, you must understand with gestures from your hands and feet. Even without a nose, you must advance by sensing smells, and without ears, discern those whom you ought to approach.”
Jinseong grasped the air, dressing the doll.
It was an oversized hoodie and baggy jeans that were too large for the doll’s frame.
“Walk. Until the food jabbed into your belly has been completely consumed and you lose the energy to move. When your feet wear down, you shall lean on a staff, and should your legs become nonexistent, you must crawl forward using your arms. Even if your arms are consumed, you must wriggle like a bug to advance, for this is the miserable fate you must endure as the coward you are, an uncompromising order you cannot deny. You coward, coward, with fear so potent that your blood freezes, dragging along your cold body. Move to survive. Do your utmost to fulfill my command to avoid death like a bug.”
As Jinseong chanted, he placed a mask over the doll’s face.
It was a shabby-looking human face mask.
The silicone mask looked hastily made, bearing a resemblance to the President of America, and when the doll donned it deep under the hoodie, from a dark corner, one might mistake it for a human.
Thud.
With all preparations complete.
The doll began to move in accordance with Jinseong’s command.
Wearing an excessively stuffed hoodie and jeans.
With a tattered backpack slung over its back.
Thus, the doll set forth toward its destination.
The time of night invites deep contemplation.
The cold air that seeps into the lungs, distinct from the heated day, sets one on edge, while the encroaching darkness lures one into drowsiness, making the body feel languid. Yet, as the chilling moonlight gently descends, one feels their eyes heavy, but the unsettling energy that pulsates through the soul snaps the mind back to alertness.
It’s a paradox.
To be drawn into sleep while simultaneously being jolted awake.
For that reason, the night engenders reflection.
Like pounding hot iron, then cooling it down.
Reheating the cooled metal and striking it again.
The human spirit is honed and sharpened between comfort and chills.
Thus, Maurice cherished the night.
A finely honed mind draws one deep into thought, allowing for ideas and reflections that daylight constraints, sharpening perceptions beyond the senses one ought to possess in the light of day.
Enabling one to sense ghosts with senses beyond the five, sharpening the recognition of their presence, making one realize death isn’t some distant entity, but lurks perpetually nearby.
Death, death, death.
The unknowns that a seeker, pursuing the concept of death, must come to comprehend.
For a brief spell, during the fleeting hours of the night, to feel it more vividly—what a joyous pleasure that is. Though as dawn breaks, that thrilling darkness dissipates like mere bubbles, to experience that closeness is a truly blessed occasion.
Should one wish to feel the breath of death.
Should one listen to the signs of death receding—
Ah, a refreshed determination to explore both death and the unknown builds anew, sharpening the resolve dulled throughout the day.
Thus, the night remains a splendid time.
It encourages one to press onward toward their goals.
An inevitable flow, honing and sharpening the spirit.
How lovely that is.
How can one not adore this brief yet prolonged moment?
However, this blissful time doesn’t solely belong to him.
Even at night, guests can visit.
In the stillness of the night when all should be asleep, guests always come.
And those guests can be living beings, or ghosts who’ve crossed over.
And perhaps….
Something that is neither alive nor dead.
“Have you come?”
Maurice gazed at the guest who approached him.
It was traversing through a dark, narrow alley.
Clad in a tattered hoodie, shuffling along awkwardly in jeans.
With an old backpack slung over, hunched as if burdened by its weight, it moved forward, forward.
The glow from a distant streetlamp flickered, revealing an artificial skin texture brushing past. Though it appeared human, it wasn’t quite human; its lower face was briefly exposed before being swallowed by darkness, swaying as it walked forward.
That movement was akin to that of a drunken person.
What had arrived at Maurice’s presence walked as if it couldn’t maintain its balance, like a scarecrow tossed about by the wind.
Finally reaching Maurice, the doll slowly lifted its head, pressing its silicone mask as if it were its true face. The hollowed sockets behind it displayed only the brown of dry twigs and vines, as its eyes shifted to observe Maurice, and the twisting vines moved its mouth as if trying to speak.
This was its procedure to realize it had indeed arrived correctly.
Once the process was complete, the doll finished its purpose and was no longer of use.
Flop.*
The end of its purpose resulted in it collapsing right there.
Its form crumbled, leaving no trace of humanity, becoming a small hill strewn with filthy trash and leftover clothes.
![[TS] Surviving in a Yuri Visual Novel](https://i0.wp.com/darkmtl.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/03/1740775735-6552-TS-Surviving-in-a-Yuri-Visual-Novel.png?w=1200&resize=1200,0&ssl=1 "[TS] Surviving in a Yuri Visual Novel")
