A sudden upheaval

Beside it were some handwritten notes, a thick stack with yellowed edges that looked quite old. Fortunately, they were written in English, so I could read them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of that book. Its hideous, pitch-black eye sockets seemed to stare at me, sending a chill through me. I no longer wanted to stay there. I gathered the papers and the notebook on the table, handed them to Jason, then left behind the gloves that had touched the book and had him take me upstairs.

There was a little incident along the way. Jason had to climb up first, then kneel on one knee and pull me up. I had just gotten up when, as Jason closed the cellar, the elastic strap on his mask snapped, dropping it into the cellar. Jason wanted to go down and retrieve it.

But I pulled him back. He had only found it somewhere anyway, and the new one I had bought him had arrived. I stopped Jason and lent him the jacket I wore underneath to cover his face. The outer one would not do; it was too dusty.

After dinner, I began reading through the contents of the book. The more I read, the more astonished I became. A middle-aged woman with only a junior or senior high school education had actually managed this much. I dared say that even the finest language experts could not have translated this book in such detail without reference material.

The ink varied in shade, with revisions and annotations made several or even dozens of times, more than enough to show how much care the writer had put into it.

I stayed up all night and did not finish reading the entire translation until the following evening. The most detailed translation concerned the dark ritual for resurrecting Jason-or rather, a kind of contract. That spell in the book could resurrect Jason as a monster neither dead nor alive, and in exchange, Pamela had to kill everyone who trespassed on Crystal Lake, offering their blood as a sacrifice.

Jason had indeed come back to life, which proved that the spell had worked. During her lifetime, Ms. Pamela had indeed done her utmost to kill most of those who entered Crystal Lake. But now... Ms. Pamela had died decades ago, yet Jason was still alive, so was the contract still in effect? If so, was Jason now fulfilling Pamela's obligations, or...

Letting my thoughts run wild now would do no good. I went downstairs to make dinner. Jason had eaten snacks for both meals.

I did not allow him into my study. I had thought he would stay in the living room watching cartoons, but instead, he had sat down outside my door, his legs stretched out into the hallway and his body leaning straight against the wall, sitting there obediently. When he heard me open the door, that mask turned toward me. He looked a little pitiful and cute.

I blanched fresh asparagus, lightly roasted it, drizzled it with freshly made lemon butter sauce, and sprinkled it with a little grated Parmesan. I diced an avocado, paired it with poached fresh shrimp, tossed it in vinaigrette, and garnished it with black olives and cherry tomatoes. The main course was French roast chicken with rosemary-roasted vegetables. I marinated a whole chicken, stuffed its cavity with carrots, bell peppers, and onions, then slow-roasted it at a low temperature. For the starch, there was low-salt white bread with savory cheese.

For our evening snack, I made apple pie with vanilla ice cream. I had drunk a little wine at dinner, so now I simply brewed some peppermint tea. Jason had milk as usual.

I leaned against him. He was absurdly muscular now. Just sitting against him, I could feel those hard, sharply defined muscles, especially in his summer loungewear. Though he still wore long sleeves and trousers, whenever he moved even slightly, those muscles seemed about to burst out of his clothes.

I had gained quite a bit of weight myself, even developing a thin layer of fat on my stomach. That should not have happened... Apart from Jason's scheduled two-hour patrol every day, we ate the same things, and he ate more than three times as much as I did. Could it be what we drank?

Noticing my gaze, Jason looked away from the muscle-bound turtles on television. Oh, The Pink Panther had stopped airing a few years ago, I think. Come to think of it, Jason had rather liked that long pink plush toy. What was popular now was a changed version of Tom and Jerry, along with those muscle-bound turtles-turtle ninjas taught by a Japanese rat.

Jason had no idea what boundaries were. His gaze seemed locked onto me. Though it was a little narcissistic of me, sometimes I felt he did not actually love watching cartoons. He just wanted to spend a little more time with me before sleeping alone at night... I patted his shoulder, and the solid feel beneath my hand made me sigh again. It was fine. Keep watching.

Jason turned his gaze back to the television. I sighed. "So muscular. Being muscular is good."

I had indeed given it careful thought. I decided to return to that cabin with Jason tomorrow. I also intended to start studying that book. At the very least, I needed to understand just what our current ageless, deathless state amounted to.

At night, the forest was much the same as always, with cicadas chirping, birds calling, and a few small nocturnal animals. But now all those sounds had vanished, as though they feared something and had fled early.

In 1993, some evil force stirred in a distant town. He searched everywhere for lingering power, building toward his eventual resurrection and slaughter. He discovered this place. Time had not worn away its death and bloodshed. Keenly scenting evil, he searched until he finally found that cabin. He silently took the mask left there, then vanished from this land.

But the lingering disturbance seemed to have stirred something. Something began moving in response to that energy. It was the book, the Necronomicon. The face on its cover twitched, wailed, and yearned.

That precious soul, that unique soul possessed of great energy, the soul that should long ago have been torn apart and fed into his mouth as nourishment, was here, right nearby.

That night, the black mist that had haunted me for decades found me again. Only this time, it came with far greater ferocity, stripping me of consciousness almost instantly.

The black mist enveloped me, giggling and whispering, continuing to chant spells no human could understand. They kept extending tentacles and claws, slashing bloody marks across my body, then squeezing me. My body twisted into impossible angles, my bones creaking. The piercing agony made me whimper again and again, even as my consciousness still drifted in darkness.

My body seemed to become a marionette, opening the door in a contorted posture. Jason had already sensed something was wrong. The instant I opened the door, he appeared before me, reaching out again to brush the black mist away as he had before, or simply grab it and eat it.

This time, however, the black mist was tenacious. As though it had a mind of its own, it dodged several times before finally disappearing outside the door.

I collapsed to the floor, cold sweat pouring from me as I convulsed uncontrollably.

Utterly at a loss, Jason knelt on the floor and cradled me in his arms, trying to hold me still, but my body would not stop trembling.

Jason sensed something. He settled me on the bed, restless and agitated. He wanted to fetch his blade. He could sense it: in the cabin, in the basement, something had set its sights on Luo Ya, coveting what he protected.

Only destruction could protect.

But something surged into his mind with even greater force. Get away... mine... Dark, filthy whispers echoed in Jason's mind.

No! No! No! This power, which should have been Jason's source, a power he should have revered, was now violently driven out by him. Rage filled his entire body.

Get away! Die!

With a resentful wail, that power vanished completely from Jason's mind. In the basement, the face on the cover of the Book of the Dead twitched madly, like worms writhing together or tangled tree roots.

"How dare you!" the Necronomicon roared. How dare this creation, which could only have come into being through its power, defy it? He let out a shrill scream unlike that of any living creature, summoning one phantom after another around him.

Only then did I manage to catch my breath a little. My whole body hurt as though I had been hit by a car. It felt as if a fork were constantly stirring my brain. A piercing ringing filled my ears, and my heart felt about to explode out of my chest.

I did not understand. I, too, had felt that thing's call. He wanted to devour my soul. It was the Necronomicon. He should have devoured me long ago, but the broken, unfinished ritual had left him without enough power. He could only slowly wear away at my mind until my soul shattered.

But he should have been dormant. We had not recited any spells. Why had he suddenly awakened again?

Seeing that I was awake, Jason instinctively moved to rush toward the cabin. His thinking was simple: he only needed to chop the book to pieces with his blade. But I knew that such simple, brute violence probably would not work on that book. I stopped Jason before he could leave.

"Don't go. Don't go..."

I gasped for breath. Jason wanted to leave, but he turned back to look at me again. Holding his blade, he copied what I had done for him before, letting me lie against his chest as his hand tentatively patted my back.

I soon returned to normal. I had to return to normal. After what had just happened, I could feel it: I seemed to have formed some sort of connection with that book. I knew it would never let this go.

Fear spread through my mind, making my body tremble again. Jason felt it, and his hand patted my back once more. My first reaction was to flee, but where could I flee to? Could Jason leave this place?

No, I could not leave either. That book would not let me leave. Back then, he had been able to target my soul with nothing but that broken ritual, let alone now that the book itself was here. Why? Why me? It was only a soul. Why go this far?

That faint voice from the depths of hell seemed to carry a chill. He kept tempting me, luring me with that hoarse voice.

"You have lived long enough. Come, offer up your soul and gain everlasting release..."