The next morning, I yawned my way to the entrance hall and had just sat down when I noticed—one of the cracks in the inn’s walls had disappeared.
Not repaired, but healed on its own, as if some force was slowly restoring it.
"Ah, that’s what happens when you resolve a tenant’s lingering regret~" A-Jin strolled over with a broom, his tone breezy, like he was commenting on the nice weather.
"So you knew this would happen?"
"Of course. I am the temporary fox butler, you know. Yunjian Residence’s barrier stability is tied to the tenants’ unresolved burdens—loosen one knot, and the whole place regains a little balance. Did you really think this rickety house was holding up on its own?"
I looked down at the ledger page in my hand. Next to the lantern yokai’s name, a new line had appeared:
[Lit.] Regret remains. Not checking out.
"Wait, he’s staying?"
"Resolving regrets isn’t about kicking them out—it’s about freeing them from their pain. Some leave afterward; some stay to help. Like me~" A-Jin flicked his tail, which looked fluffier than yesterday.
Just then, a piercing light spilled from the end of the hallway. We turned in unison.
The door at the back of the inn—the one that had always stayed shut—was now slightly ajar.
From within came the deep, resonant beat of a drum, like the rhythm of a mountain god’s distant ritual.
"Huh? That’s…" A-Jin’s expression shifted. "That’s the Offering Room. What lives there isn’t your average yokai."
"Who is it?"
"The Back Mountain Land God. Once the guardian of these entire woods. Lost all worship over a century ago… and his temper is, well, explosive." A-Jin scratched his head. "Plus, he’s bound by a human grudge so deep even I don’t dare get too close."
I remembered what the lantern yokai had said yesterday—"I light myself. I’m scared of the dark."
Maybe the next thing to be lit wasn’t a lantern, but a single ember of hope in that slumbering land god’s heart.
I took a deep breath and faced the slowly opening door.
Inside—light, smoke, and a soul that had waited far too long.
The ledger still in my hands, I flipped to the next page and found a note scrawled in red ink:
"The one he waits for has long since become the highway at the mountain’s foot."
"Do not mention the word ‘development.’"
"If he suddenly starts planting vegetables, do not stop him."
I think I’m ready.
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