Wang Yong stood in the pitch-black darkness for a moment, silent. Then, with one hand pressed against the wall, he began to move forward. The endless darkness seemed to swallow him, luring the mind into an abyss of endless fantasies—until, exhausted, one would collapse into a long, cold sleep.
Wang Yong steeled himself, lips pressed tightly, his mind blank, and continued forward.
The corridor veered to the right.
As he moved, memories of Yumiji's delicate, blue uniform and the soft curve of her body began to stir within him. In the pitch-black surroundings, desire began to bloom. Why hadn't he taken the opportunity when he had dropped her off at the rental?
His body ached with longing.
The corridor turned again.
Wang Yong continued to steady himself with his hand on the wall as he turned to the right.
In the distance, a faint light flickered, casting shadows that seemed to shimmer through several layers of thin gauze, like a dim light leaking through windows.
Suddenly, the overwhelming wave of desire vanished without a trace. His thoughts drifted to the warm shores of Hawaii, where a woman in red smiled at him, her ears gracefully shaped. But just as quickly, the image dissolved, and her face turned into a skull, neck broken, hollow eyes staring back.
The empty sockets seemed to draw Wang Yong's very soul.
He continued forward toward the faint light. The moment he took a step, the vision faded.
It was gone.
Wang Yong's eyelid twitched. He forced the image out of his mind, realizing that even after merely touching a fragment of Jun Watanabe's soul energy, he was already succumbing to his illusions.
After a moment, he reached the wooden door from which the dim light emanated.
The light barely illuminated the surroundings, not enough to clearly reveal the space within. There was a door—an unfamiliar door.
Indeed, as she had said. A wooden door, with a number tag on it. But the numbers were illegible, the light too weak, and the tag dirty. This was certainly not the Dolphin Inn. The Dolphin Inn wouldn't have such an old door, and the air here was different. What was that scent? It reminded him of old, decaying paper. The light flickered intermittently, likely from a candle.
Wang Yong surmised that he had arrived at some space within the former Dolphin Inn. He stood still for a moment, then knocked softly on the door. The sound echoed loudly in the eerie silence, heavy and cold, like death itself.
Wang Yong held his breath, waiting.
Then, a rustling sound reached his ears, as if clothing were shifting. Something stood up from the ground. Footsteps echoed. They drew nearer.
"Creak—creak—" The sound of slippers dragging across the floor. Something was approaching, "but it's not a person," Yumiji had said.
Just as she had said, it was not the sound of human footsteps, but something else—something that did not exist in reality, yet here it was.
Wang Yong's body tensed. This was perhaps the first time he was confronted by something he didn't fully understand.
The footsteps halted. For a long time.
A chilling cold began to crawl up Wang Yong's spine.
The Goat-Man knew that Watanabe Jun was not coming.
Silence. Absolute silence. Wang Yong knew he had to act. Before the parasite, the Goat-Man must have been just a regular, aging half-human, half-goat creature, or so he speculated.
"Open, Arahoto!" Wang Yong chanted at the seemingly ordinary wooden door.
The door, nailed together with old wooden planks, burst open with a tremendous crash, sending a cloud of dust and old papers flying into the air.
Wang Yong peered inside.
This was the Goat-Man's room, long and narrow. At the far end was a window, but it was boarded up. The wooden planks had been nailed in place long ago, likely enduring countless years. The floor was completely covered with old books, newspapers, and scraps of documents.
Through the flickering candlelight, the Goat-Man examined Wang Yong's face. His massive silhouette swayed against the wall, enlarged by the dim light.
The eyes behind his mask were deep, unfathomable—like eyes, but also like the empty sockets of a blind man who had had his eyes gouged out.
"Didn't you realize where you were coming?" The Goat-Man's hollow voice echoed. "Only those with death in their hearts ever enter this place."
The candlelight flickered violently, as if swept by a great wind. The shadows of the two figures on the walls twisted and weakened, their light fading rapidly, as though being swallowed by cold darkness.
Wang Yong felt a surge of deep terror. In this space, it seemed that only the candle's weak glow held any semblance of life.
Then, he saw the Goat-Man lunge toward him like a large eagle. Beneath the cloak, the creature opened its mouth wide, and Wang Yong felt his life force being drained, sucked away.
His powerful magic had no effect. In that moment, he felt himself growing old, exhausted—he couldn't even lift his wand.
The Goat-Man's withered hands tightened around his throat, choking the breath out of him.
The half-human, half-goat face emerged from beneath the cloak.
Seeing it, Wang Yong couldn't help but let out a broken, mocking laugh. "Ha—cough—ha…"
There was a twisted pleasure in that laugh. For him, the intangible was terrifying, while the tangible, no matter how monstrous, could still be faced.
When he finally saw the Goat-Man's face clearly, a wave of coldness washed over him—yet it vanished in an instant, replaced by the surge of vitality in his body.
In the future, many women would still be waiting for him, he couldn't die here in this cold, deathlike realm.
With a burst of strength, Wang Yong broke free from the Goat-Man's hands. He kicked with his right foot, sending the creature rolling into the corner. Stripped of its mystery, the Goat-Man was nothing more than an old half-human, half-goat monster.
The candle was knocked over with a loud crash. The light flickered weakly, but it ignited the scattered old papers on the floor, which quickly caught fire and began to blaze.
The Goat-Man collapsed to the ground, still gasping, his mouth wide open. The white life force continued to drain from Wang Yong's body, but he remained indifferent. His body was enveloped in a red glow.
"You!" The Goat-Man gasped, eyes wide with fear. "Evil human! How did you—"
Wang Yong laughed wildly, pulling a long sword from the space around him, its blade dripping with silver-white blood. He stepped forward.
"No… no…" The Goat-Man staggered backward, even though behind him was the raging fire.
Wang Yong rushed forward, grabbed the Goat-Man by the neck, and lifted him high. The long sword plunged into the creature's chest with a savage thrust.
Sizzle. The sound of the Goat-Man's flesh being seared by the sword.
"Cough… cough…" The Goat-Man's withered hand grabbed Wang Yong's coat, black blood pouring out.
In the flames, the Goat-Man died.