Chapter II
Emha
Emha
Placing Shunji, the tiny bat she had found, into the cage beside her bed, Emha hesitated. It wasn’t a decision she made lightly. The tea house had a mind of its own, and though she was slowly learning to care for it, she wasn’t entirely sure how it would react to the presence of such a delicate creature. Until she knew more, she couldn’t take any risks.
Judging by its size and the shadow spirit tethered to it—faded and worn—the house was ancient, far older than most. Haunted houses like this could grow on their own, but the overwhelming clutter, broken furniture, and strange trinkets hinted that this one had once been lived in. The walls were lined with faded ofuda seals, their meanings unclear, but all suggesting that the house had belonged to someone long ago.
Before coming here, Emha had been a proud member of the House Hunting Society—a prestigious group that sought out and bound haunted houses for the highest bidder. It was an exhilarating job, one she’d landed straight after graduating from the Shadow Academy, where she had studied sigil carving and binding—in other words, sigiling. Her internship paid little at first, but she relished the thrill of tracking down these savage houses, deciphering their quirks, and crafting the perfect sigil to tame them.
As her skills grew, so did her reputation. She began taking on private commissions, and her sigils developed a distinct mark—one that only she could create. For a long time, she never questioned her work. It was prestigious, exciting. Binding haunted houses to their owners was simply how things were done. Unbound houses were a danger to those who lived in them. Why would she ever think otherwise?
But over time, Emha’s mindset shifted. She began to see something deeper in the spirits that inhabited these homes—something that made her question whether binding them was truly necessary. As she matured, so did her perception of the world.
It wasn’t about safety or convenience. It was about power—cruelty disguised as practicality.
And yet, she hesitated to trust that thought. If it were true, wouldn’t someone else have seen it? Wouldn’t the world reflect it back to her? But no one around her seemed to question the system, and the Society carried on as it always had. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she was imagining things.
Still, the doubt lingered, unshaken.
A series of events she rarely spoke of—events involving the very Society she had once been proud to serve—ultimately drove her to leave. What followed were uncertain months, drifting without direction or purpose. For the first time in her life, she didn’t know what she wanted.
But Emha was stubborn, headstrong. She refused to be pushed into work she no longer believed in. And then, in what some might call a moment of madness, she spent nearly all her savings to purchase this house.
Only a madwoman would want this house. Yes, it was haunted by a shadow spirit, but an utterly useless one—old, sluggish, and devoid of any remarkable traits. Inspections had revealed nothing of value, no hidden power lurking within the spirit, no rare qualities that might have made it desirable. The rooms were so cluttered with junk and forgotten belongings that reaching the third floor was nearly impossible. And then there were the doors—far too many of them, arranged in ways that defied logic. A hazard, some had called it.
But in Emha’s mind, it was perfect—a controlled environment for a series of tests. Of course, she didn’t want anyone to find out. The last thing she needed was to be laughed at if things didn’t work out. Besides, living in an unbound house was illegal.
Well, technically, she wasn’t planning to relinquish all control. Not yet, anyway.
She had made her choice.
What was the worst that could happen? The house could consume her? Emha smiled at the thought. Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she was reckless. Or maybe, just maybe, her lack of fear was her greatest gift. If she wasn’t afraid of it, wasn’t that reason enough to pursue it?
She chuckled softly at the absurdity of it all as she signed the paperwork. “I guess you’re mine now,” she murmured. Then, after a beat, she corrected herself, choosing her words carefully.
“Well… not mine. But you aren’t alone anymore.”
She flexed her fingers, watching the sigil marks on her hands glow faintly in the dim light. The design resembled delicate flames, winding and curling along her skin like living embers. When the house was awake, these marks shone a vivid red, reflecting the spirit’s energy. But when she commanded it to sleep, the flames would dim to deep black, signaling its restful state.
These sigils allowed her to communicate with the spirit—to sense its needs, to guide it, to soothe it. They let her feel the house’s presence before the magic activated to sedate it. And yet, a faint unease stirred in her chest.
She had spent weeks chipping away at the mountains of clutter filling its rooms, slowly restoring order to the chaos. But as she worked, she began to notice a change. The house’s energy shifted, subtle at first—like a held breath, a flicker beneath the surface. With every repair, every cleared space, it seemed to stir, its slumber growing lighter.
Now, as she sat beside Shunji’s cage, a question lingered at the edge of her mind.
"Am I making a mistake?"
Her gaze drifted to the small patch of obscuritea plants just outside the window. The black, fluffy-headed blooms swayed lightly in the breeze, their dark leaves melting into the surrounding shadows. Soon after moving in, Emha had begun tending to them, carefully cultivating the plants for their dual purpose: brewing tea and crafting her special ink.
Tea had always been a comfort to her, its scent woven into childhood memories. And from what she had gathered, the house had once been a teahouse—at least, that was what the scattered teapots and cups suggested. It was one of the first connections she had felt to this place, a quiet thread linking her to its past.
But no clear records remained. They had been lost in a fire, erased from history.
A mystery.
Emha was thrilled.
Shunji stirred in his sleep, drawing Emha’s gaze back to the tiny bat nestled in his cage. His wings twitched as he dreamed, and she couldn’t help but smile faintly. Like much of what shrouded the tea house, Shunji was a mystery as well. He had arrived unexpectedly with a delivery of vampire cherries—an odd surprise, even for her. Unsure what else to do, she had taken him in, and now he was just one of several peculiar beings under her care.
After careful observation, she had come to realize that one day, he would transform—revealing his true vampire manifester form. A frugivore vampire, she noted.
Manifesters in this world were born in their animal shapes, growing over time into their anthropic manifester form. Vampires were no exception. However, they existed in two distinct types: frugivores, who thrived on fruit, and sanguivores, who required blood. Only dragon manifesters were different. Unlike all others, they never began as animals. From birth, they emerged in their full anthropic manifester form.
This was the case for Emha. As a dragon manifester, her features quietly reflected her lineage. Two small, dragon-like wings sprouted from the sides of her head, folding delicately against her pale greenish skin. Darker patches mottled her arms and shoulders,and a slender dragon tail swayed faintly behind her back.
Her deep, dark eyes held the intensity typical of her kind, and a pair of sharp fangs peeked from her lips. Two dainty horns curved from her forehead, their shape distinct to her ancestral bloodline. Her room reflected her lineage—a quiet, personal space filled with objects that spoke of her heritage.
A jade-framed mirror, intricately carved with dragons, hung on the wall, its surface slightly aged but well cared for. On her table sat dragon-wing ornaments and tail bracelets, small embellishments from her homeland. Beside them was a bowl of green and red jade marbles, naturally etched with tiny faces—a common stone found in her native region.
Head wing accessories
The windowsill held a collection of delicate dragon figurines, each uniquely crafted, their presence oddly comforting. Some were old and weathered, while others had been carefully restored.
Nearby, stacks of books and scattered notes spoke of her habits and studies. Titles ranged from A Diet That Will Make Your Scales Shine to Shadow Spirits: Classifications and What the Government is Trying to Hide. A few well-worn decks of divination cards rested on top, their edges softened from years of use.
Among them, her newest notebook lay open, filled with observations of the house—small sketches of odd sigils, notes on its strange quirks, and theories on its lingering magic.
Just as her eyes began to close, a voice, small but insistent, echoed in the stillness.
"Is it time to sleep already? But I wanted to open more doors today!"
Emha’s eyes flickered open as the key at her throat flapped its tiny bat wings, its dragon head tilting expectantly.
SIGIL SKETCHES FROM EMHA’S NOTEBOOK
Sigils designed to protect the house in the owner's absence, wrapping it in a barrier of spiky vines to ward off intruders.
Wood carving sigils
Final design Emha's hands and the sigils
AUTHOR’S NOTES
When creating Emha’s character, I drew inspiration from Enma Ai of Jigoku Shoujo (Hell Girl), particularly her mysterious, dark aesthetic. Like Enma Ai, Emha has a quiet, enigmatic presence, shrouded in an air of mystery that reflects her deep connection to the supernatural. The dark, haunting beauty of Enma Ai served as a foundation for Emha’s visual design—her black ink tattoos, her solemn demeanor, and her connection to mischievous spirits.
However, Emha’s world takes this aesthetic in a different direction. While Enma Ai’s role is tied to vengeance and punishment, Emha is a caretaker of her tea house, a living entity with portals to other realms. The tea house itself reflects Emha’s inner journey—a blend of curiosity, adventure, and her struggle to respect the spirit within the house without trying to control it. Much like the shifting doors and portals in the tea house, Emha’s path is full of unknowns, and she navigates these mysterious spaces with both wonder and caution.
