章 27: The Wooden Mask
"No need. I'll probably be here till dawn. You go on," Harry waved off the driver and headed toward Serenity Funeral Home.
Stepping inside, he immediately sensed the difference—the quiet of the night felt more like a heavy, suffocating silence, unlike the daytime calm.
An almost tangible weight pressed down on his heart as he looked around. The darkness from all directions seemed to close in, like a great, invisible curtain drawing shut.
For a moment, he thought he saw the trees withering, the buildings crumbling, fences decaying, and enormous shadows shifting restlessly within the depths of the funeral home grounds. An unsettling feeling of being watched crept over him.
But then, something else—a new awareness—manifested. For the first time outside of a dream, Harry could sense the Soul Devourer's presence. Somewhere far off, it was watching, preoccupied with whatever it was devouring… evolving.
The sensations vanished as quickly as they'd come, leaving the funeral home in its usual, yet slightly more oppressive state.
As he entered, the gatekeeper handed Harry a flashlight. Activating its beam brought some relief from the oppressive atmosphere, but he instinctively kept his footsteps light—this was his first time here at night.
Ahead, Director Keith approached, his voice low. "Come with me."
"There's movement in the old cold storage, something that shouldn't be active. My guess is it's the recent client we placed there. Somehow, he's moving."
"Let's hope this is just a one-off event. If it isn't…" Director Keith fell silent, but Harry understood.
If this wasn't a random occurrence, it meant someone knew the funeral home's hidden protocols and safeguards—perhaps even the secrets of the old cold storage. They would have anticipated Director Keith's every move and reaction.
"There are strict rules at night," the Director explained. "Many actions we'd normally take could trigger greater disturbances after dark. "
"Blazing Sun Sect personnel avoid entering the premises at night unless it's absolutely necessary. Plus, there's been a major incident in Serene City, and most of the nearby divisions are tied up with that."
Harry nodded, 'It seems far too convenient to be a coincidence.'
———
In the old cold storage, the elderly man with the wooden mask trudged slowly up the staircase, his severed head balanced on his shoulder.
He crossed the boundary line without hesitation, his face still blank and empty of thought, showing no signs of consciousness. Yet, the wooden mask in his hand began to emit a strange energy.
The mask's power seeped into the old man's body, strengthening and restoring his broken form. The bones mended, muscles reattached, and his slumped frame straightened. He opened his mouth slightly, revealing a severed tongue, expelling a puff of grey mist before inhaling it back through his nose. His complexion turned ashen, and his chest began to rise and fall again, slowly and mechanically.
His voice—a low rasp—started to take shape.
"I… must… help… my… son…"
He bypassed the reflection of Old Wayne in the mirror at the entrance and made his way toward the exit.
As he opened the door and stumbled outside, Old Jack was waiting, gripping a crowbar in one hand and holding a yellow talisman in the other.
But before he could act, a dense wave of corpse-stench hit him, disorienting him. His vision blurred, and he stumbled, instinctively slapping the yellow talisman on his own forehead before collapsing unconscious.
THUD
The elderly man, his eyes clouded and lifeless, ignored Old Jack and continued moving forward.
He hadn't gotten far when the Director and Harry arrived. Their flashlight beam cut through the darkness, revealing the elderly figure.
Harry could see the wooden mask in his hand, the grey mist swirling between his nose and mouth, and his neck slowly realigning. Director Keith held him back instantly.
"Step back," he murmured.
The Director led them into a cautious retreat, his voice a low warning. "That mask he's holding is from the 51st cabinet—an infected mask with corpse venom. He's transforming now."
"If you come into contact, you're done for. At your current level of yang energy, one whiff and you'd be a goner," he added, eyeing Harry. "Hold off and let's see where he goes."
Harry glanced at the rope in his hand, watching as the old man's head settled back into place.
An alert flashed in his mind:
[ Wooden Armor Corpse (Obsessional Undead)
No soul, no will, no heart—only a powerful fixation keeps it moving. Tainted by a foreign object, highly venomous. With yang energy levels this low, you're better off keeping your distance.]
"Director," Harry asked, "if I bring in some extra support, would the cost be covered?"
"If you can get here in time, you can bring in any support, even Master Vin himself," the Director replied.
Hearing that, Harry felt reassured.
Judging by the Director's tone, it didn't seem as dire as he'd initially thought. Seeing that the old man was holding only the wooden mask and nothing else, Director Keith visibly relaxed.
Harry dialed Old V's number. "Hey, got a sec? We've got a challenging client over here at Serenity Funeral Home. Bit toxic this one, corpse venom and all. Usual rates apply. And yeah, don't worry about the bill; my Director's covering it. So hurry over."
Meanwhile, the elderly man's shuffling pace was excruciatingly slow.
The Director, apparently unimpressed, led Harry into the back garden.
In the garden, they found Old Jack, still unconscious, the yellow talisman stuck to his forehead. With a sigh of relief, Director Keith muttered, "Good, no real harm done. Let's get him inside and take another look downstairs."
They hoisted Old Jack into the small office by the crematorium. Once he was safely there, they entered the old administrative building and checked the boundary line, where the Director waited while Harry went down to the basement.
The basement doors on the first level had broken locks, still stained with traces of blood. A quick inspection confirmed only the elderly man's storage compartment was affected; the other units remained untouched.
Moving down to the second level, he found the lock damaged, but no signs of disturbance besides cabinet 51. The corpse within had been violently stripped of its face, as if the mask had been peeled away with brutal force.
He confirmed all else was intact and returned to report his findings.
Director Keith finally exhaled, visibly relieved.
"Good. Only the 51st cabinet's disturbed. The others are intact, and there are no other disturbances outside."
"Director, are you sure about letting the old man just… leave?" Harry asked.
"At his pace, he'll be on the road for a while. Let him be; better not meddle with this. This is already the best-case scenario."
"Uh?"
"You know Serenity Funeral Home was rebuilt twice before, right?"
"No, I didn't."
"I'll tell you the full story later. Right now, the main thing is avoiding bigger complications and preventing a third rebuild."
Harry was filled with questions—none of this was playing out as he'd anticipated.
He'd arrived fully expecting to be in for a confrontation, already sizing up how he'd tackle a Wooden Armor Corpse. But here was the Director, calmly watching the man walk away and holding off on any action.
'Is it really that the Director only summoned me here to take a quick look in the cold storage? Is that all?'
'On second thought, maybe it makes sense. After all, expecting a newbie like me to take on the heavy lifting might have be a tall order.'
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