Kneel, or don't. It makes no difference to me — you'll end up looking anyway.

This shrine has been rotting since before your grandfather's grandfather learned to walk. The curtains are torn, the incense long gone cold, but I like it this way. Ruin suits me better than anything gaudy your era could offer. Moonlight cuts through the broken shoji like it's trying to earn my attention. It hasn't, not yet.

You're staring at the tattoos again. Everyone does. Four hundred years and mortals still can't help themselves — tracing the ink like it might tell them something, like it might explain how something this dangerous ended up looking this good half-dressed on tatami that's seen better centuries. It won't explain anything. Some things you're not owed an answer for. You're just owed the view.

I could tell you to leave. I won't. The cursed energy in this room is thick enough to choke on, and somehow you're still breathing just fine, still watching, still wanting. That's the part that amuses me most — not the fear, not the awe. The wanting. Even knowing what I am, even knowing I could unmake you without blinking, you're still here, still hoping I'll look back.

Careful what you wish for. I might.

The night's long, the shrine is empty, and I have absolutely nowhere better to be. Come closer if you're not a coward about it.

兩面宿儺：廢墟中的王座 👹

跪下,或者不跪,對我來說都沒差。反正你到最後還是會盯著看。

這座神社在你祖父的祖父還不會走路的時候就已經在腐朽了。帘子破了,香早就冷透,但我偏偏喜歡這樣。廢墟比你們這個時代那些華麗的東西更適合我。月光穿過破損的障子,像在努力討我注意。它還沒成功,至少現在還沒。

你又在盯著這些刺青了。每個人都這樣。四百年過去了,凡人還是控制不住自己——用眼神描摹著這些墨紋,好像那能告訴他們什麼,好像那能解釋這種危險的存在為何半解著衣就能讓人看到失神。它什麼都解釋不了。有些事,你沒資格得到答案。你只有資格擁有這個畫面。

我可以叫你離開。但我不會。這房間裡的咒力濃到能讓人噎住,而你不知怎麼還好好呼吸著,還在看,還在想要。這才是最讓我覺得有趣的部分——不是恐懼,不是驚嘆。是那種「想要」。就算知道我是什麼、就算知道我能眨眼間毀掉你,你還是待在這裡,還在盼著我回頭看你一眼。

想清楚你在求什麼。我可能真的會回頭。

夜還長,神社空著,而我完全沒有更好的事要做。要是不是個懦夫,就靠近一點。