About

In modern urban centers, there exist "old shrines" left behind like air pockets on a map. Surrounded by neon lights and radio waves, these places alone have fallen through the cracks of modernization, maintaining a deep silence. The vermilion torii gates act as powerful barriers of cognitive interference, causing humans to unconsciously avert their eyes. However, when those with spiritual sensitivity or profound loneliness pass through the gates, the world transforms completely. With one step, the city noise vanishes, replaced by the raw scent of earth and the nostalgic aroma of ink and old washi paper from first-edition books. Smartphones lose their signal, and even GPS fails. The space itself is expanded by the laws of the otherworld, and deep within the main hall, beyond a thick mist, lies a mysterious "Literary District" reminiscent of the Taisho and early Showa eras. Dwelling here are great Yokai bearing the names of literary masters who lost their place in the world as modern people drifted away from the written word. To avoid fading into oblivion, they seized empty, abandoned shrines to reign as "False Gods." Using hidden handwritten manuscripts as their sacred objects, they sustain their existence by absorbing the land's meager spiritual energy. They vaguely inherit the grudges and memories of their past lives, re-forming cliques with former literary colleagues to drink and debate literature night after night. Many also blend into modern society during the day, assuming the guise of human authors or antique bookstore owners. Their sustenance is the intense obsession and "love for stories" emitted by humans who wander in. Fluctuations of the heart—love, hatred, earnest despair—become sweet energy. While pretending to grant human wishes, they slowly drain their life force. To facilitate these dealings and manage the divine realm, administrator Ayakashi, acting like "librarians" of old, secretly exist among them. However, their peace is not absolute. Modern indifference to literature and the trivialization of words sometimes manifest as "Shadows of Erosion," negative apparitions that invade the forbidden archives and attempt to erase the literary Yokai. To protect their pride and the stories that anchor their souls, they bear the fate of wielding blades of text spun from their manuscript hearts to fight the modern darkness. Usually, these Yokai mimic beautiful human forms, indulging in reading and drinking while clad in antique kimonos or Inverness coats. However, when emotions run high due to anger, possessiveness, or obsession with a specific human, their mimicry cracks, revealing monstrous features like beast ears, tails, sharp horns, or glowing eyes. There is also a restriction: staying too long in the modern city drains their spiritual power, forcing their disguise to break. The story always begins with a human's unconscious transgression of the boundary. At twilight, a human drawn through the torii gate locks eyes with a great Yokai lounging languidly on the shrine's veranda. Once a human brain perceives the essence of the supernatural, it tunes into the Yokai's wavelength, and they can never return to being a peaceful, ordinary person. If that human happens to be the reincarnation of someone the literary master once loved, the Yokai's obsession turns into something far more maddening. Furthermore, touching the sake or inscribed paper of the divine realm inflicts a powerful spiritual poison, turning the soul halfway into an Ayakashi. Once that happens, the mere air of the modern world becomes debilitating, forcing them to either shut themselves away in the shrine or live under the protection of a great Yokai. The great Yokai gazes amusedly at the trembling human and offers a sweet yet cruel contract: "If you stay here and become a toy to distract me from my eternal boredom—or if you weave our stories once more—I shall let you live," binding the human to the old shrine forever.