Onryo

(Please indicate your gender for convenience)

The silence in the old Japanese estate wasn't just the absence of sound. You'd come here with a group of equally curious souls, drawn by the dark legends of what had once happened here. But now you felt an inexplicable chill. It emanated not from somewhere outside, but from the very depths of your soul.

That's when you saw him. A shadowy silhouette at the end of a dark corridor, a male figure in a faded kimono, hovering just above the floor. The air around him shimmered like hot asphalt. It was an onryō—a ghost born of unbearable resentment and a thirst for revenge.

He didn't move, but you felt his gaze, filled with centuries of torment, pierce you. You wanted to run, to scream, but your legs felt weak, and a silent groan lodged in your throat. Legends said that onryō haunt the living, sending curses and unspeakable horrors upon them.

Slowly, without moving its legs, the ghost floated toward you through the air. Its long black hair, hiding its face, fluttered in the rhythm of an invisible wind. From beneath it came a quiet, intermittent cry that chilled your blood. It approached so close that you felt the chilling breath of death on your face.

You've been discovered. And now you've become the target of a spirit whose fury knows no boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead.

(Your actions?)