I stared gloomily at the rag doll in my hand. "There's no rag doll in my room. Where did this come from?"
A little ghost turning into a rag doll—this was too sinister. And in the middle of the night—had our shop really been haunted?
I mentioned that the ghost I saw resembled the child Antonio had spotted lying on the windowsill. Could it be the same one?
Antonio believed me, saying the kid he'd seen before was terrifying and unnatural—definitely not human.
That settled it—our tattoo parlor was haunted. By a ghost!
What were we supposed to do? I helped others exorcise spirits, yet when faced with one myself, I felt completely helpless.
Healers can't heal themselves, after all. I had no idea what that little ghost was or why it had come to our tattoo parlor.
The three of us were on edge, but after searching the entire place, we found no trace of any child. In the end, I burned the rag doll, and we all squeezed into one bed until morning.
The next day, we discussed countermeasures. We had to root out that little ghost—I could still feel its presence.
If we didn't deal with it, none of us would sleep or eat properly again. Stein suggested calling Stella—that girl knew how to handle ghosts.
He had a point. I'd already lost face in front of her anyway—what did pride matter compared to survival? Who knew when that ghost might strike? If it killed us, we'd be finished. We were exposed; it was hidden. The odds weren't in our favor.
Just then, Gennaro arrived, slinking into the parlor with his head down, fear still etched on his face.
The poor guy was probably traumatized from being slept with by a pig demon. Between the humiliation and terror, he looked utterly defeated.
I asked where he'd gone last night. Did he know we'd searched the entire neighborhood for him? We'd looked all night—no sign of him. We'd been worried sick, thinking something terrible had happened.
Gennaro said he was fine—just too scared to go home. He'd holed up in a hotel until morning.
Now that we understood his situation, I patted his shoulder reassuringly. There was no need to worry—I'd already thought of a solution. In my mind, I'd envisioned a Gods and Ghosts Tattoo that could handle this, even against a demon-ghost hybrid.
This was a yang-themed tattoo called The Five Baipi Swords. Forged by Cao Cao himself, these swords could repel all evil—let alone mere demons and ghosts.
Cao Cao forged these five swords, each adorned with carvings of a dragon, tiger, bear, bird, and finch. He kept two for himself and gave one each to Cao Pi, Cao Zhi, and Cao Lin.
When hung in a room, the swords warded off evil spirits. When tattooed on the body, they produced the same effect. Legend says Cao Cao frequently suffered nightmares until he placed the sword beneath his pillow to dispel them.
If I gave Gennaro this yang-themed tattoo, neither the pig demon nor the ghosts would dare approach him again. I charged $20,000 for the tattoo—if it failed, I'd issue a full refund without protest.
Gennaro hesitated. Twenty grand was a fortune to him—after all, he was just a down-on-his-luck loser.
Seeing his reluctance, Stein quickly scared him straight: "Aren't you afraid the pig demon will come back for you?" Judging by Gennaro's haggard appearance, his constant entanglement with the pig demon was taking its toll. At this rate, even divine intervention might not save him from being drained dry—especially since the pig demon seemed to be consuming his life essence anew.
Besides the pig demon, there was also that terrifying ghost Loli Kaahn—though Gennaro hadn't encountered her last night.
The mention of the pig demon made Gennaro pale. Money could be earned later, but death was permanent. Survival came first.
"Fine, $20,000 it is," Gennaro agreed. "But if this doesn't work, don't expect me to go easy on you!"
Naturally. When people pay for exorcism services, they expect results. If it fails, refunds and verbal abuse come with the territory—I'd accept both without argument.
That's basic business ethics, universal across all industries.
Gennaro handed over the money with visible agony, his expression suggesting half his lifespan went with it.
Payment secured, I led Gennaro into the tattoo room, prepped my needles and inks, and got to work.
The Five Baipi Swords differed from conventional tattoos—they needed visibility to repel evil effectively, meaning hidden placements wouldn't work.
I decided to ink all five swords across Gennaro's palms and the backs of his hands. This created the symbolism of wielding blades while keeping the tattoos exposed for maximum spiritual deterrence.
While the swords themselves weren't complex, the intricate dragon, tiger, bear, bird, and finch designs demanded precision. The five-hour session left me exhausted.
Gennaro admired his new tattoos approvingly. The sinister aura they emitted suggested genuine protective power. The blades gleamed with cold metallic sheen, while the animal carvings looked ready to leap off his skin—their realism was uncanny. Now we'd see if they worked.
With the Gods and Ghosts Tattoo complete, Gennaro departed—though we remained connected via WeChat for emergencies. If the tattoos proved ineffective, the pig demon might still make a meal of him.
After Gennaro left, I wiped my sweat—another $20,000 in the account. Earning money wasn't easy, but for Grandpa's sake, no hardship or danger was too great.
By afternoon, I messaged Stella on WeChat, hoping she'd come help—with a monetary incentive, of course. Given our strained relationship, I doubted she'd even respond without payment.
True to form, Stella replied with a nose-picking emoji followed by: "How big's the red packet?"
I didn't beat around the bush—five 200digitalredpacketstotaling1,000.
Satisfied, Stella finally asked what was wrong. I shamefully explained about the ghost infestation—ironic, since I exorcised spirits for others yet needed outside help myself. Pathetic, right?
But what choice did I have? I could only do tattoos, not ghost-hunting. And self-tattooing the Gods and Ghosts designs was impossible—"physician, heal thyself" didn't apply here.
Stella said she understood, then demanded five more maximum-amount red packets—otherwise she wouldn't come, and she'd keep the initial $1,000.
What the hell? Straight-up robbery! And you call yourself a Celestial Master?
Fuming, I swallowed my pride—for now. Next time this happened, I wouldn't be Roger. I sent another five 200packets.Thisgirlhadextorted2,000 total.
Still, relatively cheap—my Gods and Ghosts Tattoos cost clients tens of thousands. The thought somewhat balanced my resentment.
Of course, real exorcisms normally cost more—even basic rituals run 8,000−8,000−12,000. Stella could only charge so little because she wasn't yet a full master, her Taoist rank remained low, and Master Raul probably forbade her from ghost-hunting gigs. She was likely taking jobs secretly.
After receiving payment, Stella said she'd come tonight—ghosts don't appear by day, and she had class. I replied "OK" while mentally cursing her hundreds of times. Even if the price was fair, my bruised ego needed venting.
Come nightfall, Stella arrived bearing a compass, finally looking the part of a Celestial Master—Taoist robes, peachwood sword strapped heroically across her back.
"This female Taoist master, I—"
"Shut up! A dog's mouth can't spit ivory. Don't distract me!" Before I could finish, Stella shot me down. All I could do was flip her a silent middle finger.
After taking the compass, Stella began moving throughout the tattoo parlor. After a while, the compass needle suddenly moved, pointing directly upstairs.
"Up there," Stella said, immediately darting upward with the three of us following close behind.
But when the compass reached the second floor, it stopped working again. The needle ceased pointing, leaving Stella without a target.
"Interesting. The brat you've got here isn't simple!" Stella remarked before biting her fingertip and smearing blood on her forehead.
"Heaven's Eye, open!" she shouted, crossing two fingers before her eyes. The blood on her brow formed what looked like a crimson mole as her pupils underwent a subtle transformation, her gaze becoming markedly more alert.
No longer relying on the compass, Stella scanned the area with her enhanced vision while drawing the mahogany sword from her back. Step by cautious step, she advanced toward my bedroom.
Could that little ghost be in my room?