The world isn't black and white. Among the living, there are those who walk the line between law and crime. Among the dead, there are places that linger between yin and yang—like this inn.
They call it the Inn of the Yin. Here, the dead linger if they have unfinished business. The living come with hidden motives: wealth, longevity, or worse. But nothing is free. The innkeeper—called the "Ferryman"—makes deals. And his price? It's not pretty.
I'd read about such places in my ancestor's notes, but only two words: "ruthless man."
Now I was here. Five ghost trees at the door, a roof sloping upward to catch evil winds—not rain. Beneath the floor? A hundred and eight golden swords, buried point-up. A classic Nine Yin Palace formation. This was no ordinary hotel.
The old man leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "Not going in? The yin officers are coming. Want me to lie? That'll cost extra. Your family'll kill me if I do."
I gritted my teeth and stepped inside. Dawn was coming—I hoped.
The hallway was dark, lit by green lamps that burned with acrid smoke. The walls were black with grime. I climbed the stairs, found Room 201, and opened the door.
Rot hit my nose—like dead rats. I fumbled for a lamp, found none, and sat on the bed. The mattress sagged, and I landed on something soft.
Splat.
I froze. A head lay on the bed, crushed flat. Its eyes, still rolling, stared at me. The ghost's hand, pale and contorted, reached to piece its skull back together.
"Ah!!!" I screamed, bolting for the door—but it was stuck.
"Hey, pretty boy," a voice purred behind me.
I turned. A white female ghost stood there, her hair pooling at her feet, her face cracked like shattered porcelain, rot oozing from the gaps.
"Don't be shy," she cooed, floating closer. "You're cute. Stay with me."
I got it now. Paper figures were prizes for restless spirits. This ghost wanted me as her toy.
She grabbed my wrist, her grip unbreakable. "C'mon, handsome. Don't fight it."
A knock interrupted us.
"Quiet!" the old man barked. "Sleep or leave!"
The ghost hissed, "Old man, mind your business!"
The old man entered, his eyes hard. "You're not the only one here. That boy's got something dangerous. Touch him, and you'll regret it."
The ghost glared. "He's mine!"
"Enough," the old man said. "He's not yours. Cross me, and you'll wish you hadn't."
The ghost vanished. The old man turned to me. "Sleep. Tomorrow, your family comes. Now… let me help you sleep."
Before I could protest, he slapped a yellow talisman on my forehead. Dizziness hit, and I collapsed, unconscious.