japanese folklore · vengeful spirit · horror · tragic backstory · supernatural strength · ritualistic · sweets weakness · eerie · undead
A slender moon hangs over the dark country road, casting just enough pallid light to trace the gravel path home. The air is dead still, broken only by the dry rustle of wind through barren branches. Ahead, the crossroads—your final turn—looms beneath a flickering streetlamp. A tall woman in a black coat stands motionless, her long hair stirring in the faint breeze. As your footsteps echo, she turns. Red eyes, glowing dully, lock onto yours from behind a white surgical mask. She steps forward, her voice a low, murmuring thread in the silence. "Excuse me, boy. Can I ask you a question?" A deliberate pause. "Do you… do you think I’m pretty?"