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Once upon a time, there was a scholar with the surname Wang in Taiyuan, Shanxi Province. He met a woman early in the morning, who said she fled because she was afraid of being sold as a rich man’s concubine. The scholar, taken by her exceptional beauty and moved by her plight, hid her away at home and continued to have illicit encounters with her.

One day, the scholar encountered a Taoist, who, upon seeing him, was astonished and asked if he hadn’t met something unpleasant. The scholar thought of the beautiful woman but denied it, while the Taoist lamented how one could be so unaware of their impending doom.

Thinking the Taoist’s words were nonsense, the scholar returned home, only to find that instead of the beautiful woman in his study, there was a hideous ghost. The ghost had laid out human skin and was painting on it, using it to disguise itself as the beautiful woman. Shocked by the sight, the scholar fled and began searching for the Taoist…

* * *

This could only be described as a farcical event.

It truly was occurring simultaneously across various parts of China.

Power holders, whose bodies seemed broken as if cursed, were being taken to hospitals. While the specifics of their injuries remained undisclosed, it wasn’t hard to guess they were connected to “secret and shameful” places that they all wished to bury.

There are countless forms of punishment for a person, but the one most often highlighted tends to be related to sexuality. Regardless of cultural context, becoming impotent is a significant humiliation and enough to elicit sympathy.

Thus, it wasn’t strange that power holders sought to conceal their “secret and shameful injuries.”

It was a relief if they even garnered some sympathy.

The moment this became fodder for gossip among the people, they would surely become objects of mockery and satire, which would certainly undermine their power—just like becoming impotent overnight.

So, what followed was undoubtedly a series of events so comical one could hardly contain laughter.

“Oh… what a tremendous beauty… might you spare me a moment?”

“Oh… I’ve never seen a handsome man like you…”

Handsome men and beautiful women.

Though the severity of the symptoms varied among individuals, they all shared the common plight of “impotence.” Despite the overwhelming shock of suddenly becoming sexually dysfunctional, their responses were akin to rampaging beasts at the mere sight of their own arousal. How could anyone refrain from laughing?

They pretended to be dignified and gentlemanly, yet they hardly resisted the allure of approaching beauties at all. Their behavior made those who succeeded in seizing power and navigating the treacherous political landscape look exceedingly foolish.

However, perhaps this was only natural.

Caution is usually exhibited in dangerous environments, particularly when predators exist nearby. For power holders standing over countless subjects, the only predators are other power holders, while the common people are mere ‘livestock.’

Is there a farmer who, fearing pricked fingers, refuses to harvest crops?

Are there livestock farmers who hesitate to manage their livestock out of fear?

Just as it is natural that power holders would not fear the common people.

They reach out easily to harvest and can consume their flesh without concern, and any rebellion typically only results in minor bite marks—a tendency quite characteristic of livestock. Furthermore, due to their own education, they have conditioned the common people to the point where they rarely resist, rendering them as little threat.

However, one could argue,

Don’t you know how powerful the people can be when united?

If they band together, do you understand their strength?

Of course they do.

Power holders are not fools; they surely know that.

But understanding is different from feeling.

Logically, yes, they know. It is only natural to understand when educated.

Yet, this knowledge remains merely that—the stories heard from grandfather or father, or what was learned from textbooks. Without experiencing it bodily, it remains confined to thoughts like “Well, such things exist.”

Moreover, even if they hold this knowledge tightly in their minds, when surrounded solely by obedient livestock, how could they not forget that “the people shouldn’t be underestimated,” no matter how often they repeat it?

Thus, they fell so easily under the seductive allure of the beauties that approached them.

So absurdly easy.

And then… they paid a horrendous price.

“Wha…what… this…”

Foolishness.

Foolishness.

So profoundly foolish.

Just as grains are scattered to trap birds, just as poisons are placed in eggs to catch snakes, just as mushrooms bloom to torment and kill unsuspecting fools approaching them.

With every misstep, suffering began, yet they were completely oblivious to such logic.

“…Ah.”

What good is it to realize one’s foolishness only when death is near?

What kind of miracle can happen, like a heart resuming its rhythm, to grant life back to someone whose belly is split open and left with nothing but ugliness?

They could only lament their own foolishness, regret how easily they succumbed to the beauty trap and curse their inability to adhere to the fundamental notion of being wary of the people, leading them to meet their end.

Drip.

Droplets of blood falling.

The splash of blood, like having been sprayed across the room, clings to surfaces with the viscosity of blood before it loses its strength and falls to the ground. The bright red blood splatters and bursts upon impact, oxidizing into a floral pattern.

Empty eyes.

Exhausted eyes.

There was no life left in the gaze of the deceased.

The dead power holder’s eyes remained as they stared, unblinking, at someone standing like a mirror, in utter disbelief of their fate, craving to capture that moment until the end. Was it to carry the beauty’s image to the afterlife or to engrave the wrath against the creature that devoured their heart deep into their soul?

But alas.

Drip.

Drip.

Already dead.

Their own heart, torn out, held in the hands of the beautiful one…

A figure stripped bare right before the great deed was to commence.

And in one hand, the heart.

A heart still warm, dripping fresh blood.

The beauty looked at it with soulless eyes.

As if declaring it wasn’t a living creature, she gazed without a hint of emotion.

Then, she let out a slurp.

The heart, marked as if it had been bitten, trembled and dropped blood as if terrified, while she lifted it once more, staining her mouth with gore.

Squish.

Then, she took a bite.

It was tough, perhaps because it was raw.

Had it not been for the serrated teeth, chewing would have taken forever.

But swallowing the dripping blood like ambrosia, she savored the meat as if it were some sort of divine fruit.

Once she completely devoured the heart, she rummaged through the baggage she brought and pulled out a scroll.

Then, she revealed a brush from who-knows-where and dipped it in the corpse’s blood, beginning to paint, creating a depiction of the one lying dead. The level of detail was so vivid and lifelike that it felt as though the likeness of the deceased had been perfectly captured.

When the painting was finished, the beauty gazed at the scroll before breaking into a grotesque smile, extending her arm at a bizarre angle, reaching behind her.

Ssssht!

She peeled her own skin away.

Ssssht.

Ah.

How horrifically grotesque it was.

It was unlike any molting seen in insects.

It resembled a nightmarish sight, as if a giant worm were crawling out of a living creature’s body, especially with the repulsively oozing, bluish-skinned monster lurking beneath the human skin.

Ah.

After skinning the living flesh and dyeing it blue, one could only wonder just how twisted and grotesque the end result would become. Truly, that sickening sight deserved to bear the name “Yokai” with absolute shame…

And what came after shedding the beauty’s skin was even more gruesome.

Sizzle.

Dipping her hand into the scroll, she pulled out something not from the depths of her own painting.

Thud.

What the yokai extracted resembled the dead power holder exactly.

It may have looked a tad wrinkled, but once filled, it would stretch taut, ready to mimic those who lie there soulless but still heartless.

“Hehehehe.”

The yokai wore the skin.

Grinning with her grotesque smile.

Ah, the sweet scent of blood wafting inside her mouth.

How delightful the human heart tasted!

How foolishly delicious; how easily acquired.

What a splendid thing.

Truly a splendid thing…

…

…

…

In one place, a woman; in another, a man.

Their appearances and genders varied, yet the stripped figures held the hearts of power holders in their hands.

Without a word, they feasted on the power holders’ hearts, donned their skin, and masqueraded in search of new prey.

…

…

…

They were the yokai, wearing the skin of the dead.

Predators hunting the foolish.

 

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