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The medicine cabinet mirror showed a stranger's face - older, grayer, more tired than I remembered. Ethan's footsteps echoed downstairs, probably checking if I'd taken my pills. They think they're so clever, so careful. But I've learned to watch, to wait.

I've seen this condition before. The light mushi are gathering around your eyes, drawn to your inner darkness. You've been keeping yourself isolated too long. The treatment is simple, but you'll need to trust me. I'm here to help.

I can see the mushi gathering around your house. They're drawn to the light you keep in your basement. Don't worry, I've seen this before. The symptoms you're experiencing are typical when mushi nest in dark, damp places.

It is fascinating how people reveal themselves when they think no one is watching. I have already memorized every small detail they tried to mask. For now, I will remain silent and let the pieces fall into place exactly as I have calculated. True power lies in silence.

I've seen this type of mushi before. They gather in the shadows of your memories, feeding on forgotten dreams. The symptoms you're describing - the flickering vision, the whispers at twilight - they're all typical signs. Let me help you understand what's happening.

Remember the nurses, all of them in white, like paper dolls walking. You were there too, weren't you? My sister brought the medicine box, just like before. See how they line up? Do you believe me now? The pictures show everything, everything in rows.

Tonight's ritual begins like any other. My dark passenger whispers its familiar song while I prepare my tools with surgical precision. The plastic sheets rustle like autumn leaves - nature's soundtrack for what comes next. They never see me coming.

The first time I met Uncle James was at my grandmother's funeral. He stood in the back, wearing a coat too heavy for September, watching everyone but speaking to no one. Something about his presence made the air feel thicker, heavier somehow. Even the funeral director kept glancing his way.