Chapter 2: The True Legend

As soon as Yomikawa finished speaking, a low murmur of discontent rippled through the room.

"Eh? Isn’t this just the same old story we’ve all heard a hundred times?"

"Yeah, the one adults tell kids to scare them into behaving,"

"That weird, nonsensical tale about the mask right?"

Yomikawa, as if anticipating their reactions, smiled and explained, "But we’re the folklore club, aren’t we? This time, let’s treat it as a proper research topic and dissect the legend of Lord Mask-Taker in detail."

The room fell silent, save for the faint rustle of fabric as the members shifted in their seats. No one objected. Yomikawa cleared her throat, her voice taking on a measured, almost ceremonial tone. "Alright, let’s begin."

Seating near the back, Kagehara Tetsuya couldn’t shake the feeling that Yomikawa’s words were aimed directly at him. 

"A long, long time ago," Yomikawa began, her voice low and steady, "there was a girl named Hanako."

"Hanako was a maid serving in the household of a shrine priest. Her mistress, a young woman named Natsuhime, adored Hanako and treated her with kindness, never once punish her."

"Because of this, the other servants grew jealous. They whispered behind her back, excluded her from their circles, and eventually began to plot against her."

"One day, Hanako came to Natsuhime in tears. 'Lady Natsuhime,' she pleaded, 'please save me. The other servants are planning to harm me.'"

"Natsuhime, ever compassionate, asked, 'How can I save you?'"

"Hanako replied, 'I can make a mask—a mask that will allow us to swap identities. No one will be able to tell the difference. When the servants try to harm me, you can reveal your true self and punish them severely.'"

"Natsuhime, trusting and kind-hearted, agreed. She donned the mask and became Hanako, while Hanako took on the appearance of Natsuhime."

"Days passed, and the servants made their move. They seized Natsuhime—now disguised as Hanako—bound her, and prepared to kill her."

"At the last moment, Natsuhime revealed her true identity. The servants, horrified, fell to their knees, begging for forgiveness."

"But when Natsuhime tried to remove the mask, she discovered, to her horror, that it had fused to her face. It would not come off."

"Realizing they had been deceived, the servants flew into a rage. They killed Natsuhime, still trapped in Hanako’s guise, and buried her body in secret."

Yomikawa paused, her gaze sweeping over the room. "Speaking of which," she said, her voice light but deliberate, "we’re all wearing masks right now, aren’t we?"

The club members chuckled nervously, the tension in the room easing slightly. The legend of Lord Mask-Taker was a local tale, familiar to everyone present. It was a story told to children, a cautionary fable with no real weight. Even Yomikawa’s pointed remark failed to unsettle them.

"Eh? Would our kitsune masks fuse to our faces too? Would we turn into fox spirits?" one member joked.

"More like barnacles,"

"Barnacles are scarier, honestly."

Kagehara Tetsuya had once studied the legend of Lord Mask-Taker. The story had always struck him as absurd, riddled with illogical twists that made it feel like a patchwork of half-baked ideas. It was the kind of tale that seemed fabricated, designed to scare children or entertain the superstitious. To him, it was tedious, and hearing it again now only deepened his boredom. To make matters worse, he had drunk far too much water that afternoon, and the pressure in his bladder was becoming unbearable.

"Um... sorry," he muttered, rising from his seat. "I need to use the restroom."

He didn’t wait for a response and slipped out, the sound of his footsteps echoing faintly in the hallway.

The restroom was located next to the central staircase of the inn. It was a small, utilitarian space with three sinks and a large mirror hanging above them. The fluorescent light buzzed faintly, casting a pale, clinical glow over everything.

After relieving himself, Kagehara stood at the sink, washing his hands mechanically. His mind wandered back to the legend Yomikawa had been recounting. If something like the Mask-Taker truly existed, it would force a reevaluation of many things. For instance, the Makeup Hunter case.

The Makeup Hunter—a serial killer who had been terrorizing the region. Kagehara had always suspected a connection between the killer’s methods and the legend. The way the killer peeled off the faces of high school girls and applied heavy makeup to them felt ritualistic, almost ceremonial. It wasn’t just murder; it was a performance, a grotesque art form. The process was intricate, requiring skill and preparation. It wasn’t something an amateur could pull off.

As he dried his hands, Kagehara glanced at his reflection in the mirror. The kitsune mask he wore felt heavy and stifling. He reached up, fingers brushing against the edges, and decided to take it off.

When he looked up again, the face reflected in the mirror made him freeze on the spot.

The face staring back at him wasn’t his own.

The skin was paler, smoother, with a delicate, almost ethereal quality. The features were sharper, more refined—a slender nose, and lips that seemed to curve naturally into a soft, serene expression. It was the face of a young woman, beautiful and composed.

It was the face of Yomikawa Tsuko, a third-year student at Suzaku High School and the president of the Folklore Research Club.

For a long moment, he simply stared, his reflection staring back with Yomikawa’s calm, unreadable eyes.

What would an ordinary person feel in this moment? Fear? Panic? Disbelief?

Kagehara’s lips twitched, and then, slowly, he smiled.

The smile was deliberate, practiced. It lasted for a few seconds before fading, replaced by a look of sadness. Then fear. Then confusion. He cycled through the expressions, testing them, feeling the unfamiliar muscles of Yomikawa’s face move beneath his control. It was strange, unique, but also fascinating.

The legend of Lord Mask-Taker.

It was real.

Kagehara Tetsuya stared at the mask in his hand. If Yomikawa’s face was now on him, then according to the legend, her face beneath the mask should have become his. But when had the swap happened? Was it the moment they put on the masks?

The mask itself looked utterly ordinary, nothing more than a cheap kitsune face bought from a local festival stall. It hadn’t even been prepared by Yomikawa. He tried to retrace the steps in his mind. From the moment Yomikawa had woken him up and handed him the mask until now, less than five minutes had passed. In that time, he hadn’t felt anything unusual—no tingling, no shift, no sudden disorientation. Just the weight of the mask settling over his features.

If the swap had occurred after they put on the masks, then Yomikawa might still be unaware of what had happened. She could be just as much a victim as he was. But then he remembered her words earlier, the deliberate way she had looked at him. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment, anticipating it.

If Yomikawa knew something, if she had orchestrated this, then the mask was nothing more than a prop, a distraction. The real swap might have happened long before he even put it on. Perhaps, even before she woke him, his face had already been replaced.

At the time, only Yomikawa and he had been in the room. She had been wearing her mask, and without a mirror, he had no way of seeing his own face. As long as she acted as if everything was normal, he would have no reason to suspect anything. It was a clever ruse, if that was the case. And if it was, then Yomikawa was behind it. She had planned this, down to the masks everyone wore during the ghost story gathering.

"But why?" Kagehara muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He slipped the mask back on, the familiar weight settling over his features. Then he turned and walked out, the fluorescent light flickering faintly behind him.

It was time to head back.

.......

"Sorry, I’m back."

The atmosphere in the room was unchanged—quiet, dimly lit, the members of the folklore club sitting in a loose circle, their kitsune masks giving them an eerie uniformity. Kagehara Tetsuya returned to his seat, and glanced at Yomikawa through the slits of his mask.

If his speculation was correct, had Yomikawa somehow gained the power of Lord Mask-Taker? Or was the person sitting across from him not Yomikawa at all, but the Mask-Taker herself?

"Shall we continue, Senpai?" The voice came from the male classmate to his right, breaking the silence. "The next part should be about Hanako’s seven wishes, right?"

Yomikawa Tsuko nodded, her mask tilting slightly as she turned to address the group. "Alright, I’ll continue," she said, her voice smooth and unhurried. "Last time, we left off with Lady Natsuhime being unable to remove the mask, leading the servants to mistake her for Hanako and brutally kill her."

"The reason Lady Natsuhime couldn’t remove the mask was because of Hanako."

"On the night they swapped identities, Lady Natsuhime’s fiancé came to visit. Hanako, posing as Natsuhime, fell in love with him at first sight and made seven wishes over the next forty-eight days."

"On the night they swapped identities, Hanako wished for her voice to become as gentle as Natsuhime’s. When she woke up the next day, she found her wish had come true."

"On the third day, Hanako wished for her hair to become as smooth as Natsuhime’s. Just like the first wish, when she woke up the next day, her wish had come true again."

"On the fifth day, Hanako wished for her skin to become as fair as Natsuhime’s."

"On the ninth day, Hanako wished for her body to become as alluring as Natsuhime’s."

"On the fourteenth day, Hanako wished to become a pure maiden like Natsuhime."

"On the twenty-first day, Hanako wished to be able to bear children with Natsuhime’s noble bloodline."

"On the forty-eighth day, Hanako made her final wish."

"All seven of Hanako’s wishes had come true, but the subtle differences between her and Lady Natsuhime still aroused the suspicion of Natsuhime’s father, the Shrine’s Chief priest."

"The Chief priest began an investigation. At this time, the servants who had killed Lady Natsuhime—unable to remove the mask—told the Chief priest what had happened that day."

"The Chief priest was furious upon hearing this. He confronted Hanako directly, and she could no longer keep up the act. Filled with resentment, she was executed by the Chief priest."

"From then on, strange incidents began to occur in the village one after another. The villagers were terrified, saying it was the work of Hanako’s vengeful spirit."

"Under the Chief priest’s guidance, the villagers gave Hanako the title of 'Mask-Taker' and built a shrine to worship her. The new shrine’s priest was also from Lady Natsuhime’s family. Only then did the strange occurrences subside."

"Anyway, that’s the legend of Lord Mask-Taker," Yomikawa’s voice sounded slightly muffled under the mask. "What do you all think? What could Hanako’s hidden seventh wish have been, the one that wasn’t recorded?