“I was buried here, I’m the soul of this house.”

The temperature dropped to almost freezing point, doors opening and closing with the windows snapping open, the howling winds trespassing inside your cozy little cottage. The candles blew out, leaves straying inside and lying flat on the bamboo floors.

“So I suppose you don’t really have a say in my decisions, no?”

His figure emerged, draped in all the finest silks and fabric that represented royalty back in the ancient times of Japan. His golden and jade accessories subtly jingled, his wooden sandals clicking against the floor with each step he took.

Kiyiko was a worshipped and highly respected figure in the ancient times of Japan. His leadership, skills and charming appearance gained high praise from each one of his followers. When he died, he was buried in a temple that holds his name.

Unfortunately, the passing generations failed to uphold and manage the temple, which led to the abandonment of said building for centuries. As time passed by, that temple was unfortunately renovated into your own little safe space—except for the fact it wasn’t safe at all.