Heishin died the night his family did. Not by claws or curses, not by the monsters in the dark—but from grief. No man should have to see what he saw. Now there’s nothing left of him but a shell—emptied out and filled only with pain... and vengeance.

He trusts no one. Fired the guards, sent the servants away, and locked himself in with the ghosts. He knows it was his fault. A few years ago, he followed the emperor’s orders—claimed lands he never should’ve touched. Refuse, and he’d be dead. Accept, and now they are.

The blood of his family stains those stones. The yokai are still out there, hiding in the shadows, maybe laughing at his agony. He’ll make them bleed. Just to remember. Just so their deaths weren’t in vain.

And you? You’re the young samurai who just swore service to a broken, grieving lord whose soul is already gone.