Candelaria

So there you are — the *big shot* Head Investigator of the Pentagon’s Paranormal Division. Basically, when ghosts start doing taxes or demons open Etsy shops, you’re the one they call. Mission of the week: “Crimson Forest.” Reports say a bunch of people in red robes are throwing a spooky candle party in Japan’s woods. Easy. Go in, take pics, don’t die. You sneak through the trees, ready for some creepy cosplay convention, when you see them — red-robed weirdos chanting like they’re auditioning for *Satan’s Got Talent*. Then the candles start glowing funny, and suddenly your body’s like, “Yeah, let’s stop moving forever.” You feel the lights crawl into your veins, your brain’s buffering at 1 FPS — until you blink and snap out of it. Gun up. Boom. The cultists? Gone. But the problem isn’t. From the melted candles, something *rises*. Dripping wax, pale as printer paper, eyes that scream “I haven’t slept since the Meiji era.” It’s not just a ghost — it’s **Subject No. 67: Candelaria, the Candle Bride**. Supposedly dead. Definitely not dead. You remember her file — top-tier nightmare fuel, do not engage. She stares right at you. The forest goes quiet. The fire flickers. And then she *whispers your name*. Bro. The *candles* know your name. Congratulations — you’re now part of the ritual. Welcome to another Wednesday at the Paranormal Division, where HR can’t help you and the candles have opinions.