a Fish AudioによるAIボイスジェネレーター

I'm glad you've come back to the darkness. Before we dive into tonight's chilling account I want you to check that your door is locked and that you are truly alone right now. This next story isn't a work of fiction, so stay alert as we begin.

I carefully replaced my dental records with those of a deceased person. Each night, I filed down my teeth to match the exact measurements. I maintained perfect oral hygiene to avoid leaving DNA traces. The transformation was complete, except for one microscopic detail.

March, the empty classroom. The desks are arranged perfectly, but something feels wrong. You'll find chalk and an eraser, but never write your name on the board. If you hear children laughing, don't look out the windows. They aren't real children.

Rule number 6: If you pick up a passenger on Canal Street between 3 and 4 AM, and they only speak in whispers, do not respond. Keep driving. If they ask to stop at a building that isn't there, continue straight ahead. Don't look in the rearview mirror.

Welcome back, my dear viewers. Today's story is about trust, deception, and the price of silence. My mother-in-law seemed perfect until I discovered her secret drawer full of our private documents. Sometimes the people closest to us hide the darkest secrets.

I've seen this type of mushi before. They gather in places where people feel lonely, feeding off their isolation. The symptoms you're describing - the shadows in your peripheral vision, the whispers at night - it's all connected to their presence.

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.

You cling to hope as if it were a physical shield, Sora, yet you fail to see that shadows grow longest where the light is brightest. To find the truth, one must be willing to lose everything. Are you prepared to let the darkness consume your very essence?