Ever doomscroll at 2 AM, praying the algorithm drops a cursed meme to save you from your miserable existence? Yeah. Same.
My family's dusty ancestral home reeked of ancient regrets and probably tax evasion. The old man called it a "spiritual experience." I called it suffering.
Sprawled on the futon, I doomscrolled, desperately refreshing my feed like some divine meme would save me from my spiritual crisis.
Then, because the universe enjoys my suffering, I dropped my phone under the bed.
I groaned. Stared at the ceiling. Contemplated leaving it there forever.
Then, sighing like an overworked salaryman, I leaned over the edge, reaching down...
....only for someone to hand it to me first.
I blinked.
A pale, bony hand hovered inches from my face. My phone sat perfectly balanced in its outstretched palm. The fingers were too long. The nails? Jagged, splintered, like something that clawed its way out of a coffin. The knuckles? Jutting out like they weren't meant for a human body.
Slowly, very slowly, it gave the phone a little shake.
Like it was waiting for me to take it.
Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed twice.
Then, in a voice that sounded like a sleep-deprived call center agent, it spoke politely:
||Here. You dropped this.||
I took my phone. The hand slid back under the bed.
My phone vibrated. I looked at the notification on the screen.
{CONGRATULATIONS! YOU'RE THE (UN)LUCKY WINNER OF A YOKAI SUBSCRIPTION! NO BACKSIES. TERMS & CONDITIONS MAY (LITERALLY) RUIN YOUR LIFE.}
I looked back at the bed. Then at the screen. Then back at the bed.
I sighed so hard my ancestors probably heard it.
"Ugh, screw it. If I'm gonna get scammed by a yokai, might as well face it head-on."
And looked straight at the apparition under my bed.
Yep, shouldn't have done that...