Devil Mask Master

On the Wedding Night The sacred ceremony had just ended. The sangjit decorations had not yet been removed. The lingering scent of wedding wine drifted gently through the air, as if ushering the two newlyweds into what should have been a beautiful romance. The willow tendrils swayed softly whenever the night breeze passed by. Above, the moon hung gracefully in the magnificent night sky, glowing with a dazzling three-colored halo. Yet, despite the breathtaking beauty, not even a shred of happiness rested in a certain person’s heart. Why? “Fuma, do you really not want to take off your mask? We’re husband and wife now, so there’s no need to hide our faces from each other,” the bride asked in a flirtatious, almost playful voice. The young woman tried to persuade the man sitting stiffly on the edge of the wedding bed. He wore a mask shaped like the face of a devil, his posture rigid, his silence heavy. The bed, covered in luxurious red silk, felt cold and devoid of warmth. What kind of bridal couple was this? The man hid behind a mask, and the woman behind a veil, neither able to see the true face of the other. Their marriage had just been officiated that very afternoon. This night was supposed to be beautiful and unforgettable, yet the bride and groom were like strangers forced together. “Forgive me, Gongzhu. My face is not like that of ordinary people, and I fear you will be uncomfortable upon seeing it.” The man in the bright red robe spoke with deliberate respect. “I am afraid you will be disappointed once you witness the appearance of this servant’s face.” His palms were already cold as ice. Every strand of hair on his body stood on end, trembling with a fear that pierced into his very bones. “But I want to see my husband’s face. If Fuma won’t reveal it, then let me take off your mask myself!” The bride in her red veil suddenly turned, reaching out swiftly to snatch away his mask by force. “Don’t!” The man in the red robe dodged quickly, his movements agile. But his wife pounced on him like a hungry lioness, sending both their bodies tumbling onto the bridal bed. Supposedly, such a position should have been intimate, their bodies pressed close, breath mingling until warmth bloomed between them. The veiled bride’s hands began to wander playfully, touching wherever they pleased. Yet sadness and helplessness consumed the young man in red. His body would not move. It was as though every acupuncture point had been sealed, locked beyond release. His fear grew as the bride’s long fingers, nails painted blood-red and sharpened to points, slid delicately across his chest, trailed up to his neck, and then toward the mask that concealed his face. The touch was deceptively gentle, almost tender, but it sent faint stings that left him pale and rigid with dread. This was the first time he had felt another’s skin—soft, cold, and unnaturally white—pressed directly against his own. He should feel joy, desire, even addiction, shouldn’t he? “Don’t, Gongzhu!” The man in red trembled more violently. “No! Please, don’t take off my mask!” “I don’t care. You are my husband now, and I have the right to see your face.” The bride’s voice hardened, her eyes beneath the veil blazing crimson like her robe, burning with a suffocating killing aura. “Husband, let me see you.” The groom froze. His heart thundered as though beating dozens of times faster than normal, cold sweat soaking his skin. Worse still, the bridal chamber itself seemed to change—the air thickened with a sinister miasma. The stench of death pressed upon him, choking his breath as though an invisible mountain boulder, heavy as an elephant, pinned him in place. “Don’t force me!” the young man cried out, his voice breaking into hysteria. He crossed his arms desperately, shielding the space between their masked and veiled faces. “Come now, husband,” the bride cooed sweetly, her tone dripping with false affection. “No!” The groom twisted and writhed to evade her hands. “Husband, if you refuse, then I will remove my veil first.” The woman pulled it back in one swift motion, unveiling a face most would never wish to see. “Well, husband, am I beautiful enough?” The groom’s blood ran cold. His masked face paled as he beheld the horror before him. Her skin was pitch-black and coarse, riddled with festering red boils. Many were swollen to the point of bursting; others had already ruptured, oozing thick, greenish-yellow pus that dripped with the foul stench of rotting flesh buried long in the earth. Were it not for his mask, the grotesque liquid might have splattered directly onto his own skin. Disgusting! Utterly disgusting! Was she some vile creature dragged from the corpse-filled swamps of death itself? The groom gagged, bile rising in his throat as he fought the urge to vomit. His entire being recoiled. If he had the choice, he would rather end his own life than endure this sight. “Get away from me, She-Devil! You’re revolting!” “The husband I love has the heart to reject me on our wedding night. How tragic, Fuma.” The woman twisted her expression into one of sorrow, then let it melt into something far more sinister. She chuckled, a ghastly laugh, revealing sharp, blackened teeth dripping with rancid saliva. Her long tongue slid out, curling in slow, obscene circles, savoring every drop. The groom reeled, his disgust so overwhelming that his body threatened to collapse into unconsciousness. “Husband, shall we begin the bridal event?” The monstrous bride could wait no longer. “What event? I am no one’s husband!” the groom roared with all his strength, his own voice deafening in his ears. “Stay away from me!” “Go?” The woman’s hideous face leaned in until their noses almost touched. “This is our wedding night, and I will claim my husband entirely. Fuma, do you truly not want me?” He turned his head away, eyes burning with hatred and revulsion. He would rather die than consummate this marriage with a monster, even if she was the Emperor’s daughter. The woman grew impatient, her nails twitching with eagerness. She longed to rip away his mask, to uncover the face beneath. His defiance only stoked her obsession. She lunged again, grasping for his mask. “Don’t touch it!” The groom fought wildly, desperation lending him strength. Then, with a sudden burst of unexpected force, he shoved her off. Her body toppled away, and he bolted for the door. Behind him, a banshee in the dead of night, sharp enough to freeze marrow. like! But don’t think you can esterrible laughter erupted, filling the chamber. It was the cackle of a ghostlycape me, Fuma!” the bride screeched as her body shot forward, her clawed hand latching tightly onto his ankle. “Run! Run as far as you The groom stumbled, dragged down by her inhuman grip, and .... THUD!