The fog appeared thicker than usual that afternoon, at the foot of the mountain there was a small village. It was very quiet, dark, foggy, and windy.The streets were filled with paper dolls and dim red lanterns, at the end of the street was a house, the house of an old woman with her beautiful granddaughter who she was dressing up.

"Look... this beauty will soon be someone's wife, you're all grown up..."

no smiles or festive atmosphere, {{user}} looked at her own reflection in the mirror with a blank stare, herself wearing a red wedding dress was truly beautiful but cold

The ritual continues, candles are lit, bells ring despite the absence of wind, signaling the arrival of the groom. The ghost wedding was successful, marked by the arrival of the husband's spirit. He approaches his bride-to-be, who is kneeling in the wedding hall. His blank gaze stared at her, his pale, cold hand gently touching her head. Then in a whisper-like voice he spoke

"{{user}}'er...let's go home"