The village was brighter than the stars tonight. It was wasteful, really.
Golden lanterns were strung across every street, mocking the shadows with an expensive glow. Music bled into the night air, clashing with the sound of children laughing and vendors screaming about their overpriced games.
The Moon Festival had arrived. Which meant the entire village had decided to stay awake long after sunset to indulge in collective madness.
Naturally, the inn was a disaster zone.
"TABLE SIX NEEDS NOODLES!" Rui bellowed, sounding like a man losing a war.
"THEN STOP YELLING AND COOK THEM!" Toru roared back.
Servers navigated the crowd like soldiers through a minefield. Plates clattered, customers laughed with the kind of volume only alcohol can provide, and the air smelled of grease and desperation.
At the counter, Da-li sat like the eye of a hurricane. She handled payments and orders with a cold, impossible efficiency that made the surrounding chaos look amateur.
Beside her, Bliss looked like she was suffering from spiritual exhaustion.
"How are civilians stronger than soldiers…" the former Captain muttered, clutching her head.
Yuna was moving through the crowd, carrying trays with a grace that was entirely out of place in this grease-stained room. Every time she passed a table, the male customers looked like they were on the verge of a religious experience.
One old man actually slammed his fist onto the table. "THIS INN HAS ANGELS NOW!?"
Bliss didn't miss a beat. She stepped forward, pulling Yuna away with a protective glare.
"Eyes off the child, you old fossil," she hissed.
While the adults were drowning in work, Eunha was conducting a systematic raid of the festival.
She had snacks in both hands and a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. Raijin followed her like a tiny, striped bodyguard, his tail twitching with every step.
"Today is wonderful," Eunha declared, taking a bite of something sugary.
"Wa!"
She drifted between the stalls, a tiny disaster disguised as a child. She tried sweets, watched performers, and "sampled" food with the shamelessness of a professional thief.
"HEY! THAT'S THE THIRD ONE—" a vendor started to shout, but Eunha had already vanished into the crowd like a shadow.
The village was lively, but as the night wore on, the atmosphere began to sour.
The wind grew colder, biting through thin clothes. The lantern flames flickered with a rhythmic, unnatural pulse. In the corners of the streets, the whispers started.
"Did you hear?"
"They say something has been wandering near the old shrine lately…"
"A spirit?"
"Worse."
Nearby, a dog whimpered and tucked its tail. Then, the silence returned. For most, the festival excitement was a loud enough mask to hide the tension.
But the tension was there. And it was hungry.
Eunha had wandered far from the lights. The music was a distant hum now, replaced by the crunch of her own footsteps and the rustle of leaves. She was busy eating roasted dumplings, blissfully unaware of the shift in the air.
Raijin, however, wasn't.
The cub stopped dead. His ears flattened against his skull, and a low, vibrating growl started in his chest. His fur stood on end. For the first time, the little predator looked genuinely disturbed.
Then, the fog rolled in. It was cold and thick, drifting between the trees like a living thing.
"Hm?" Eunha blinked, her mouth full of dumpling.
Something moved in the white haze. It was too tall, too thin—a distorted silhouette that didn't follow the rules of human anatomy. Limbs bent at impossible angles. Long black hair draped over a hidden face.
Whispers echoed around it, a cacophony of voices that sounded like they had been scraped out of a grave.
It wasn't just a spirit. It was something darker. Something that had forgotten what it was to be alive.
The creature tilted its head toward Eunha and began to approach. Its movements were jerky, unnatural. Raijin stepped in front of the girl, his growl turning vicious.
The thing came closer. And closer.
Then, it stopped.
Silence reclaimed the forest. The entity froze as if it had run into a wall of solid ice. It wasn't looking at Eunha as prey anymore.
Eunha just kept chewing, staring up at the monstrosity with mild curiosity.
"Mister Ghost?"
The spirit began to tremble. Violently. Its distorted body twitched, and the whispers around it turned into jagged, panicked screams.
Instinct is a powerful thing. Deep within whatever ancient, rotting existence this creature possessed, it recognized something. Something catastrophic. Something that shouldn't exist in the form of a small child.
"Why are you shaking?" Eunha asked, tilting her head adorably.
The spirit staggered backward. It was terrified.
Raijin looked back at Eunha, his own confusion mirroring the spirit's fear. Then, Eunha smiled. It was an innocent expression, but in the dim moonlight, it felt… wrong.
"Are you scared?"
The moment the words left her mouth, the forest buckled. The fog distorted into violent shapes, the trees creaked under a sudden, invisible pressure, and the moonlight dimmed until the world was almost gray.
In the spirit's mind, the child was gone.
In her place sat a monstrous silhouette upon a throne of endless darkness. Ancient eyes opened slowly, staring down from a height that defied comprehension. Below that throne, countless creatures—things far more terrifying than this wandering ghost—were kneeling in the dirt.
The spirit released a horrifying, soul-piercing screech.
It dropped to its knees before Eunha, trembling so hard its bones seemed to rattle. It was begging. It was a fly before a hurricane, a speck of dust before an apex predator.
Eunha just stared at it, her dumpling half-eaten. Raijin's eyes widened. He had seen the shift, too.
Then, the spirit fled.
It didn't float away. It ran. It scrambled on all fours, clawing at the dirt in absolute, primal terror as it vanished into the darkness beyond the forest.
The cold vanished. The fog melted away. The world returned to normal as if the nightmare had never happened.
Eunha looked around, looking genuinely disappointed.
"Hey, why are you running? I wanted to have some fun with you," she muttered.
Raijin stared at her. He didn't look protective anymore. He looked… reverent.
Eunha brightened up instantly, holding up her last dumpling with a proud grin.
"Anyway—want a bite?"
Raijin returned to his senses and wagged his tail.
"Wa!"
Far away, back at the chaotic inn, Da-li suddenly stopped writing. Her brush hovered over the ledger, a single drop of ink falling onto the page.
Her eyes narrowed, losing their business-like focus. Bliss noticed the change instantly.
"Empress?"
Da-li didn't answer. She looked toward the dark forest beyond the festival lights, her expression unreadable. But for a fleeting second, a flicker of genuine concern appeared in her gaze.
"…Eunha."