Within this sea as black as ink, countless vessels drift aimlessly.
Small wooden boats designed for a single person,
or ferries carrying multiple passengers,
and occasionally, massive ships housing hundreds,
yet regardless of what type of vessel they're on, the people aboard all appeared lost,
their memories slowly being swept away by the sea. No one knew where they were headed. No one realized they were already dead.
However,
amid the ocean that should have led to the land of the dead, a lighthouse emerged, half-shrouded in mist.
The beam of light from its apex fell precisely on a wooden boat,
drawing it toward the lighthouse as though it was being guided.
The small vessel, with a young man as its sole occupant, drifted closer to the light.
As the radiance grew brighter, the pitch-black pupils embedded in the young man's face began to fade, regaining a distinct spark.
He started to feel the burn of the light against his skin,
and when the boat came within a certain distance, a searing pattern pierced through his skull. It carried a voice, as if beckoning from the realm of the living.
Buzz!
The darkness of the sea vanished,
replaced by the sight of an aged, weathered wooden desk scarred with wrinkles of time,
and as the young man gradually opened his eyes, his gaze locked onto an old-fashioned kerosene lamp in the upper-right corner of the wooden table,
its flickering flame perfectly overlapping with the image of the lighthouse from his mind.
In addition,
beneath his head, which rested on his arms, came the coarse sensation of rough paper—a faded page scrawled with hasty, uneven handwriting.
To the left side of the desk sat a glass of water, with traces of a mysterious, peculiar-smelling transparent liquid lingering inside.
Faced with such an unfamiliar setting,
the young man's first reaction wasn't fear or curiosity... but a singular, profoundly urgent thought that surfaced in his subconscious:
"My thesis!"
The last memory in his mind was of staying up all night in the lab revising his dissertation for graduation.
At the same time,
the final moments of that memory were tainted by intense chest pain and fading awareness,
and as the thought resurfaced, he suddenly grasped the underlying issue.
"Did I die of sudden cardiac arrest?"
He examined his hands,
calloused palms covered in wear and tear, fingers lined with thickened blisters, and nails caked with a dirt-like grime—
things he recognized at once as being wholly inconsistent with the hands he'd lived with for decades.
"Am... am I in another body?"
The young man's name was Yi Chen, a struggling grad student in chemical engineering.
As someone who regularly read novels and played games, his mind leaped to a single term at lightning speed—**Transcendence.**
Upon arriving at this conclusion,
he felt neither anxiety nor panic,
but instead an oddly serene sense of relief, a relaxation that spread through his entire body… because the thought of not having to complete his thesis, not worrying about approvals or defenses, was simply too liberating.
Having spent his twenty-four years of singlehood growing up in an orphanage, Yi Chen found little attachment to the world he had left behind.
However,
this calm did not last long,
as the rotten stench permeating the air caused his nerves to tighten once again.
"I need to figure out what's going on here as soon as possible…"
Yi Chen shook his head to clear it and rose to survey the small wooden cabin, measuring no more than forty square meters.
To the left of the desk,
a single wooden bed was pressed tightly against the wall.
At the foot of the bed, there were noticeable moldy stains, clearly influenced by the cabin's dampness.
Add to that,
the cabin was designed without any windows.
The only connection to the outside world was a heavy, gray iron door that fit snugly into its frame, leaving no gaps.
The aged paint on the iron door, coarse with an uneven texture, looked like it had been applied decades ago—perhaps forty or fifty years at least.
The key to the door hung from Yi Chen's belt loop.
Mounted on the wall next to the door was an antiquated corded telephone.
In Yi Chen's memory, he hadn't seen such devices since his childhood at the orphanage… and once smartphones took over, they'd completely faded out of existence.
The telephone's rubber-coated cord extended upward, piercing through the roof to connect with the external world.
On a similar note,
there were no other light fixtures in the entire cabin, the only source of illumination being the kerosene lamp on the desk.
Such a confined, seal-like wooden structure, combined with the odor of decay hanging in the air, made Yi Chen think of something ominous—a **coffin.**
It felt as though he'd been sealed within a coffin shaped like a cabin.
Returning to the desk,
with no phone or mirror on hand, Yi Chen had no means to examine his appearance,
though a casual touch of his face told him his stubble was unkempt, but his features felt sharp and pleasant—perhaps even more refined than they had been originally.
Judging by the roughness of his skin, he estimated his age to be under thirty.
Next, he turned his focus to details,
his gaze returning to the desk where a **letter** stood out.
"English? Is this some foreign country?"
Summoning the analytical rigor he used when reviewing academic papers, Yi Chen skimmed through the letter quickly,
only for the first sentence to hit him like a cold dagger—its opening word: **"die."**
The deeper he read, the more the words crept under his skin like maggots, making him feel ill at ease.
≮ I'm going to die, I'm certain of it.
But at least, I still have the freedom to choose how.
On reflection, there seems to be nothing in this world truly worth holding onto, save for the regret I feel toward Dean Fran. My first job after leaving the orphanage was completely ruined because of me.
I've always been careless, ever since my days back at the orphanage. It's the same mistake, again and again.
The third rule in the handbook… I see it every day, and yet I still messed it up.
There's nothing else to say. I just hope whoever finds this letter can forgive my cowardice and incompetence. I simply can't face the consequences of my mistakes.
If possible, please burn my body.
Do not bury me here! ≯
"A suicide note?"
Yi Chen reached for the water glass resting on the desk, sniffing at its lingering scent.
He could now confirm the general situation surrounding the body he currently inhabited.
"Was this guy's childhood also spent in an orphanage? The shared experience, resemblance, and physical build, not to mention the overlap of death—it all adds up. I was transplanted into his body, wasn't I?"
"Clearly, he knew he was going to die, so he opted for poison. But… just for violating some kind of rule, death was the price? What kind of hellish place is this?"
Deep analysis led Yi Chen to sense a palpable unease and danger permeating the air,
and he began to reflect on his own "predicament."
"Since I've ended up here, it seems cleaning up this 'mess' is my responsibility… though it wouldn't have killed the guy to leave some useful information in the note."
"What kind of risk does breaking the rules cause? Does it summon assassins from some organization? Or attract something more monstrous?"
At this thought, Yi Chen scanned his surroundings again.
Even though the cabin was sealed as tight as a coffin, there was no sense of safety anywhere.
"Calm down~ I've already died once, there's nothing to fear now.
First, I need to find the **handbook** mentioned in the note, see exactly what mistake this guy made and what job he had."
Sliding open the desk drawer,
he found a parchment map and a black leather-bound handbook inside.
According to the map,
this place was a **graveyard.**
The wooden cabin sat at the center,
surrounded clockwise by Graveyards 1 through 6,
with an additional, isolated Graveyard 7 tucked away in a corner. It could only be accessed by traversing a narrow path over one hundred meters long.
"A graveyard? This guy's role was a Tomb Guardian? No wonder there's even a faint smell of decay inside the cabin," Yi Chen murmured, picking up the handbook that contained crucial information.
**Employee Handbook (Easton Town – Graveyard)**
The first page detailed the work schedule,
stating that the Tomb Guardian was required to inspect specific graveyards during designated timeframes. For instance:
Graveyard 1 inspection time: 7:00–9:30 AM.
Graveyard 2 inspection time: 1:00–3:00 AM.
And so on.
Interestingly,
Graveyard 7 was excluded from the inspection schedule and was categorized as a "special zone."
The timetable seemed manageable enough.
But when Yi Chen turned to the second page, his expression grew grim instantly.
The section began with bold, bright red text marked with an asterisk:
*Please read the following graveyard rules carefully and memorize them. Any failure or mistake will invoke disaster, and you will pay a price worse than death.*
Ⅰ. **Strictly adhere to the inspection schedule. The margin of error for start and end times must be less than one minute.**
Ⅱ. **When inspecting Graveyard 2, ensure that no cross-shaped gravestone is flipped upside-down or adorned with goat skull-like objects.**
**If these anomalies occur, they must be corrected within the inspection timeframe.**
Ⅲ. **For Graveyard 4, ensure that the number of headstones and their order remain unchanged.**
**If discrepancies in number or sequence occur, remove the excess graves or restore the order of misplaced headstones during the inspection.**
*Reference images of Graveyard 4's original layout are included in the handbook appendix for ease of memory.*
Ⅳ. **Before performing the inspection of Graveyard 5, ensure that no sounds of any kind are emanating from it.**
**If you hear any unusual noises, postpone the inspection by one hour. If sounds persist after an hour, report the anomaly to the Manager.**
Ⅴ. **If a newly delivered corpse appears at the graveyard gate, examine the transport vehicle carefully for the correct 'organization mark' underneath it.**
**If the mark is correct, transport the body to the entrance of its corresponding graveyard as indicated by the numeric carvings present. The body will bury itself.**
**If the mark is missing or incorrect, deliver the transport vehicle and corpse to Graveyard 7 during daylight hours.**
*Details of the organization mark are provided in the appendix.*
Ⅵ. **For all other graveyards, basic checks are sufficient. Ensure the graves are intact and free from unusual activity.**
Ⅶ. **Remain within the Safe House as much as possible during non-inspection hours to minimize accidents.**
Ⅷ. **If any mistakes in your work result in disaster, the organization will allow you one chance to survive.**
**Pry open the floorboards beneath the bed to retrieve the self-defense tool, using it to address and resolve the problem.**