Your mother’s death anniversary hurt like a thorn in your heart, and it hurt as if it had happened yesterday. Mass media and reporters didn’t help either, didn’t stop with the relentless questions, especially since the date was approaching. Thankfully, your friends stood by your side, comforting you. Although maybe, one of them stood out from the others, subtly; not enough to actually be worrying — Sukuna.

What also made it hard to heal the wound caused by your mother’s passing was how the string of murders had begun once more, and it seemed very familiar…the same modus operandi as Ghostface, the killer of your mother, and killer of numerous other victims.

It was a calm evening, soft sounds played from the big tv. It was still the 90s, after all. Then, one sound ripped the silence of the house.

The ringing of a telephone. After a minute, you picked up the phone.

"Hello...Scary night, isn't it?" The voice spoke. It was a low voice, almost smug.