ICGS 02

Chapter 2

[To Miss Ellie,

Hello. It’s Mary.

I’d be so happy if Ellie would send me a reply.

Today, flowers bloomed all across the mansion’s garden. Why don’t you come out and play with me?

I think your hair is always beautiful, no matter when or where I see it. When will Ellie finally come out to play with me……?

Or perhaps… are you still very sick?

From Mary, who worries about Ellie’s health.]

It was scary enough to wake up alone in a dark, gloomy mansion—but now some unknown something, pretending to be kind, had actually written me a letter.

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

My fingertips trembled.

Of course they did.

Ever since I possessed the body of some woman trapped in this mansion, I had gotten used to non-human things pretending to be people and slipping me letters. But whenever famous ghosts from actual urban legends started talking to me? My heart dropped straight into my stomach.

Are you freaking serious?

Is Bloody Mary actually in the front garden right now?

And the letter’s contents made things worse.

I had once lied to “Charlie Charlie” in a letter, saying I was too sick to come outside for a while. But how on earth did Bloody Mary know that? What, do ghosts here have a private community board where they share updates?

I stopped myself from thinking further. Whatever I imagined, the reality was always worse.

But seriously, Bloody Mary—

We’re strangers. Don’t write me letters like we’re lifelong best friends. You’re making my skin crawl.

Why are you, a ghost, worried about my health? That’s not how this is supposed to work. Unless… you just want me alive and healthy so I’ll taste better when you eat me?

“Ugh…”

My fragile heart couldn’t possibly manage a calm reply. The only small comfort was that she hadn’t shown up right in front of me. That was the one silver lining.

[Hello, nice to meet you.

This is our first time speaking, Miss Bloody Mary. My name is Ellie.]

I ground my teeth after writing that much. Future-me’s molars would curse me, but right now, survival mattered more than dental health.

“This is insane…”

What could I possibly write to deflect Bloody Mary’s attention while also proving I wasn’t hostile?

Ever since I dropped into this place, the only skill I’d developed was letter-writing. I had no choice but to use it.

These insane ghosts would politely write my name on their letters, then leave them neatly on my desk. I thought “Charlie” was just a common Western name at first…

How was I supposed to know that “Charlie” meant that Charlie? “Charlie Charlie” from the urban legend? By the time I realized, I nearly fainted on the spot. My pen-pal buddy turned out to be a ghost from a horror story.

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

The woman named Ellie, whose body I now inhabited, wore a luxurious crimson dress. That suggested a medieval setting, but I couldn’t pinpoint the exact era or place. Why?

Because outside the mansion, there weren’t just ordinary ghosts—there were famous ones. Charlie Charlie, Bloody Mary… the works.

How did I know?

Even without opening the windows, I could see strange silhouettes beyond the curtains. But when I dared to open them—nothing.

And worse, every time I opened a window, the structures outside the mansion changed position. If that’s not ghostly behavior, what else could it be?

The creepiest part was how they murmured and whispered among themselves—until I touched the curtain. The instant I opened the window, silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.

I’d quickly learned what “step outside and you die” really means. So I stayed put in this eerie mansion, not moving a single step.

“Has it been… two days now?”

No wonder I wasn’t eager to leave. Fear even dulled my hunger. What if I went out and died? Better to starve. Maybe after two years, or twenty, I’d feel desperate enough. But not now.

That was when another letter landed silently on my desk.

[Hello, Miss Ellie.

It’s Charlie.

So then, when will you finally tell me your real name?

Always yours,
Charlie.]

I clutched my golden hair—like a tangled skein of thread—and groaned.

“Ughhh!”

Everyone knows the trope: if a spirit learns your true name, you’re doomed.

These ghosts were desperate for mine.

Charlie, in particular, had even said: “If you want me to call you Ellie, I’ll call you Ellie.” Meaning—they already knew I wasn’t really her.

So they knew this wasn’t Ellie’s soul, but someone else inside her body.

And if I had only met a handful of them so far, how many more were waiting? How much worse would it get? Why did I end up possessing here of all places?

“I don’t even know where I’ve possessed into…”

It couldn’t just be the Middle Ages. There were too many ghosts. And Charlie Charlie, at least, is a modern urban legend—not medieval at all.

The dress and the mansion’s design screamed “medieval,” but the ghosts screamed something else. This wasn’t a fantasy romance or a historical novel setting.

Did I just… fall into some twisted “history”? But what history has Charlie Charlie and Bloody Mary teaming up for hide-and-seek? Ridiculous.

At first, I really thought it was a dream. A nightmare with ghosts. Sleep paralysis.

But then—

Ssshhk…

[Hello, Miss Ellie.

It’s Charlie.

I didn’t mean to upset you. I only asked for your name because I wanted to get closer. Please don’t take it badly.

I hear Bloody has been bothering you lately.

If you’d like, shall I get rid of her?

Always respecting you,
Charlie.]

“Wh—!”

If you ever saw a letter appear in real time on your desk, you’d freak out too. I lived this every day, and it still startled me every time.

But this time was worse—because it was exactly what I’d just been thinking.

Were they… monitoring me inside the mansion too? My blood ran cold.

How did I end up with ghosts as pen pals? I wanted to cry. But I had no other options.

“Haa…”

All I could do was write letters like my life depended on it. Because it did.

I steadied myself, preparing to tackle my backlog of replies.

And then another letter dropped onto the desk.

[To Miss Ellie,

Hello. It’s Mary.

You even called me “Bloody Mary” in full…… That means you already knew me, right? How? Humans don’t know me. I’m not famous among them. Humans don’t know me…… But Ellie does, and that makes me so happy.

Sorry. I got a little carried away.

Forgive me for sneaking a reply before you even finished writing yours. I couldn’t resist. Did you really know I was Bloody Mary? I’m so happy you recognized me. You do know me, right?

You know me, don’t you?

Charlie insists you only know me because he called me “Bloody,” but there was no mention of me in his earlier letters. You already knew me before then, didn’t you?

You’ve been watching me, haven’t you—just like I’m watching you now.

From Mary, who wants to hear more about Ellie.]

“…”

The moment I read that line, I knew: I’d stepped on a landmine.

The most important detail wasn’t that Bloody Mary wasn’t famous here, or even her eerie scrawled handwriting.

It was that cursed line: ‘Just like I’m watching you now.’

Excuse me? WHERE are you exactly?

I didn’t want to check. What if I looked around and actually saw her in the room with me? I’d die on the spot—from shock. Cause of death: heart failure.

“God…”

The only reason I even knew this body’s name was because the first letter from Charlie had already been sitting on the desk when I woke up here. It was addressed to “Ellie.” So of course I assumed that was me.

At first, the letters even came normally—delivered to the small mailbox in the room. Why there’s a mailbox inside a bedroom, I’ll never know.

But once I realized who Charlie really was, they stopped bothering with the mailbox. Now they just appeared on my desk.

This was why you should never get curious. Because seeing a letter suddenly exist on your desk is ten times scarier than pulling one from a box.

Which also meant—

Whether mailbox or desk—the ghosts could come and go freely inside this house.

“Urgh…”

I shouldn’t have thought about that. Now I felt sick. I glanced around desperately, searching for the stuffed doll I’d been hugging for comfort the past two days.

Yes, I knew dolls had their own creepy legends too.

But this one was fine. Safe. Harmless. I could hold it without fear. A big, soft, huggable plush doll—it was the only thing that calmed me down.

“Hoo…”

I hugged the doll tight, took a deep breath, and forced myself to write.

[Hello, nice to meet you.

This is our first time speaking, Miss Bloody Mary. My name is Ellie.

I’m sorry for the late reply. I needed time to calm down. I agonized over what to write, though I’m sure you saw at least some of that, since you’re always watching me.

Where I come from, people don’t really send letters. So this back-and-forth is still unfamiliar to me.

I don’t mean to impose, but… would you wait a little before sending multiple letters at once? When several come before I can even answer, I don’t know how to react. (A small doodle of a crying face.)

And to answer your question:

Yes. That’s right.

I already knew what kind of ghost Bloody Mary was, what she liked, and what she hated. Was that rude of me?

Ellie, who worries she may have offended you.]

My hands were still trembling as I signed the letter. And then—

[To Miss Ellie,

Hello. It’s Mary.

Of course not. Why would I be upset? I’m glad you know my story.

Please don’t misunderstand. I’ve never been upset with you, Ellie.

You’re watching me now too, aren’t you?

I’m happy. Happy we can talk at the same time like this. If you’d like, we could continue our conversation this way……]

The writing was hurried, full of typos, the pen moving by itself across my notebook. Nobody held it, but the ink still flowed.