[Welcome to the leisure paradise — Silent Hill!]
[Forget your repetitive daily life and come enjoy a relaxing holiday.]
[Breathtaking mountain scenery full of natural charm!]
[The majestic lake waters change with the time of day, presenting different kinds of beauty.]
[Silent Hill will surely touch your heart deeply and let you experience long-lost peace of mind.]
Several years ago, James and Mary had been lured here by these exaggerated promotional ads, arriving full of anticipation.
That memory now felt as distant as if it had happened in the last century.
He and Mary had met at an ordinary friends' gathering. Though it was just a normal encounter, the moment their eyes met, it was as if the gears of fate had turned, and love bloomed.
Their affection grew day by day, gradually settling over time — from passionate heat into steady, deep love.
Perhaps every beautiful story needs a tragic ending to be complete.
Mary contracted a terminal illness.
The long treatment was like a demon, mercilessly devouring the sweetness and memories they once shared.
James, who had been taking care of his wife the entire time, sat by her hospital bed and watched the woman he once loved deeply grow thinner and more unrecognizable with each passing day. The pain in his heart was unbearable.
Maybe from the moment his wife fell ill, their love had already been written with its final outcome.
...
Rosewater Park, Lakeside Pavilion.
James gripped a wooden stick studded with iron spikes tightly with both hands as he slowly walked along the lakeside path.
He stared at Toluca Lake, obscured by thick fog, trying to recall the scenery he and Mary had once seen together. But his mind was blank. He remembered nothing.
Because back then, the only thing in his eyes was Mary.
Through the white mist, he vaguely saw a figure standing inside the pavilion.
As he got closer, he realized it was a slender woman.
She had golden blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. She wore a short red leather vest on top and a tight black miniskirt that hugged her hips, the hem so short it barely covered the tops of her thighs.
Her long legs were wrapped in black stockings, through which one could faintly see the fair skin underneath.
Most importantly, this figure looked extremely similar to his wife, Mary.
The woman sensed someone approaching and turned around.
James looked at the face that was almost identical to his wife's and froze for a moment before shaking his head. "No… you're not…"
Although the appearance was nearly the same, this woman's temperament was completely different from his conservative, gentle wife.
The woman saw James's dazed expression and the corner of her mouth curled into a playful smile. "What? Do I look a lot like your girlfriend?"
James looked incredulous. "No… you look like my late wife."
"Your face, your voice… they're almost exactly like hers…"
Maria listened and let out a soft laugh, interrupting him. "My name is Maria. I'm not your wife, and I'm definitely not a ghost."
As she spoke, she suddenly stepped forward, took James's hand, and pressed it against her own cheek. "See? It's warm, right?"
Feeling the soft warmth and body heat against his palm, James's heart fluttered.
He looked at this woman who had his wife's face but carried herself in a completely opposite, seductive way. A long-suppressed impulse surged within him.
Like he'd been electrocuted, he pulled his hand back and quickly apologized. "S-sorry, I mistook you for someone else."
...
Not far away, on a long bench.
Soren sat with his legs crossed, casually playing with his silver M1911 in one hand while calmly watching the pavilion.
In his line of sight, there was no glamorous blonde beauty at all.
Only James stood alone in the pavilion, speaking emotionally to thin air. Every so often he would reach out and grope at nothing, then yank his hand back like a startled virgin.
"So he really did get pulled in."
"According to the plot… this should be where he meets Maria?"
In Soren's mind appeared the original story's image of the provocatively dressed, openly seductive woman.
Maria — she represented the sexual desire and fantasies James had repressed deep in his heart.
His wife Mary had been ravaged by illness for a long time. Her skin had become ulcerated and covered in sores, no longer beautiful.
That once gentle woman had grown irritable and emotionally unstable.
She endlessly blamed and cursed James, pouring all her pain and resentment onto the person who loved her most.
There is no filial son by a long sickbed — and even less so for a husband.
At first, James deeply loved his wife. He could tolerate her verbal abuse and even tried to find traces of the adorable Mary he once knew within her unreasonable outbursts.
But over time, under the dual pressure of physical revulsion and mental torment, that love gradually twisted.
Deep in his subconscious, he began to reject the ugly, bad-tempered woman lying on that hospital bed.
It was around that time that he started desperately craving a perfect partner in his heart — one who was healthy, sexy, completely obedient, and still had Mary's face.
So Silent Hill, according to the darkness in James's heart, thoughtfully created the ideal wife he fantasized about and delivered her right in front of him.
Seeing James finish "chatting" with the air after quite a while and preparing to leave the pavilion, Soren finally stood up, stretched lazily, and walked over with big strides.
"Excuse me."
Soren called out, "You seem to be in quite a good mood enjoying the scenery here?"
Startled by the sudden voice coming out of the fog, James jumped, raising the wooden stick in his right hand while gripping it tightly with his left, ready to swing at any moment.
When he clearly saw who it was, a trace of surprise appeared on his exhausted and anxious face. "Mr. Soren? What are you doing here?"
The next second, he suddenly remembered that not long ago he had gone to that so-called "Devil May Cry" office to put in a request.
But in this eerie silence, surrounded by endless fog and constant monster encounters, the passage of time had become blurred.
The oppressive feeling of each day dragging on like a year made the event feel like it had happened a very long time ago.
And the one who had accepted the commission back then was precisely the young Asian man standing in front of him now.
"I took your commission. It's perfectly normal for me to be here. But this isn't a place normal people should come to. How did you get dragged in?"
Soren replied.
Soon after, he simply shrugged with an indifferent expression. "Never mind. Since we've run into each other, let's stick together. Consider it after-sales service from the office."
"I went to the office to submit the request that day. On my way home, I suddenly lost consciousness."
"Before I knew it, I was already here. When I tried to go back, the roads were all blocked."
James gave a bitter smile. Still, running into an acquaintance in such a creepy place gave him a sense of relief.
As if remembering something, he quickly turned sideways and pointed at the empty air behind him to introduce: "Oh right, Mr. Soren, this is… Maria."
"We just met… I mean, she looks… very much like Mary."
Soren followed the direction of his finger and looked.
There was only white fog and a railing.
He didn't play along with James's introduction. Instead, he directly cut him off:
"Mr. Sunderland."
"Yes?"
James looked a bit confused when Soren ignored his introduction.
"You really don't remember anything at all?"
Soren stared straight into James's eyes, his voice calm and cold. "You've been here for so long. Have you truly not recalled a single thing?"