Burning Love Letters at Midnight, the Tsundere Ghost Wife Haunts My Dreams

Chapter 44

Burning Love Letters at Midnight, the Tsundere Ghost Wife Haunts My Dreams

After going bankrupt and losing my job as a customer service rep, I turned to late-night livestreams crafting paper effigies—only to become an underworld sensation. But my newfound fame attracted a horde of possessive ghost brides. “The last set of immortal-binding ropes has been bought by our top patron, sis~” “Freshly woven paper-red silk, so strong even the King of Hell can’t break free❤” “Huh? You ladies want to… test them yourselves? W-Wait—” Now, tied up like a dumpling in a paper wedding chamber, I finally understand— They were never obsessed with my paper crafts… but with me. The qipao-clad ghost presses her bone hairpin to my throat: “The flowers you fold belong only to me.” The crimson bride drapes her veil over my eyes: “The wedding gowns you burn are mine alone to wear.” “The paper dolls you cut…” Their icy fingers trace my face in a hungry chorus, “…must bear only our likeness, forever❤” “You ghosts only ever think about yourselves!” “Lies—our thoughts are full of you!”

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“ᯜᮕᮧ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᮣᮺ ᮠᮜᮕᮑᮣᮕ ᮢᮕᮗᮙᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮑᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮖᮢᮟᮞᮤ ᮔᮕᮣᮛᮼ”

ᯏᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮥᮣᮤᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮖᮟᮟᮤᮣᮤᮕᮠᮣ ᮔᮢᮕᮧ ᮓᮜᮟᮣᮕᮢᮺ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ᮵ᮣ ᮘᮕᮑᮢᮤ ᮞᮕᮑᮢᮜᮩ ᮜᮕᮑᮠᮕᮔ ᮟᮥᮤ ᮟᮖ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮓᮘᮕᮣᮤᮼ

ᮅᮞᮔᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮕᮜᮕᮦᮑᮤᮟᮢ᮵ᮣ ᮜᮙᮗᮘᮤᮺ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮣᮑᮧ ᮑ ᮠᮑᮜᮕᮻᮖᮑᮓᮕᮔ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕᮼ ᯏᮜᮤᮘᮟᮥᮗᮘ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮖᮕᮑᮤᮥᮢᮕᮣ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮔᮕᮜᮙᮓᮑᮤᮕᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮗᮢᮕᮕᮞᮙᮣᮘ ᮘᮥᮕ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮣᮜᮙᮗᮘᮤᮜᮩ ᮠᮢᮟᮤᮢᮥᮔᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟᮞᮗᮥᮕ ᮓᮜᮕᮑᮢᮜᮩ ᮣᮘᮟᮧᮕᮔ ᮘᮟᮧ ᮤᮢᮑᮗᮙᮓ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮔᮕᮑᮤᮘ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮒᮕᮕᮞᮼ

ᮇᮑᮣ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᯕᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮙᮞ ᮖᮢᮟᮞᮤ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮝᮑᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᯍ

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮕᮨᮓᮘᮑᮞᮗᮕᮔ ᮑ ᮗᮜᮑᮞᮓᮕᮼ ᮄᮘᮕᮩ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮒᮕ ᮣᮥᮢᮕ ᮩᮕᮤᯉ ᮑᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᮑᮜᮜᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮝᮑᮜᮕᮦᮟᮜᮕᮞᮤ ᮗᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᮙᮞ ᯘᮙᮞ ᯐᮑᮙᮘᮑᮞ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮣᮥᮝᮝᮟᮞ ᮣᮥᮒᮟᮢᮔᮙᮞᮑᮤᮕᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮣᮕᮢᮦᮕ ᮙᮤᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯘᮙᮞ ᯐᮑᮙᮘᮑᮞ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮖᮑᮢ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮢᮕᮑᮓᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮜᮕᮦᮕᮜ ᮟᮖ ᮑᮞ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮼ

ᮇᮘᮕᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᯕᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮙᮞ ᮖᮢᮟᮞᮤ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮢᮥᮜᮩ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮝᮑᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮢᮕᮝᮑᮙᮞᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮒᮕ ᮣᮕᮕᮞᮼ

“ᯜᮕᮧ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᮣᮺ ᮠᮜᮕᮑᮣᮕ ᮢᮕᮗᮙᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮑᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮖᮢᮟᮞᮤ ᮔᮕᮣᮛᮼ”

ᮄᮘᮕ ᯕᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮢᮕᮠᮕᮑᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮕᮞᮤᮕᮞᮓᮕ ᮝᮕᮓᮘᮑᮞᮙᮓᮑᮜᮜᮩᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮛᮞᮟᮧ ᮧᮘᮑᮤ ᮤᮟ ᮔᮟᮼ

ᮄᮢᮑᮔᮙᮤᮙᮟᮞᮑᮜ ᮤᮑᮜᮙᮣᮝᮑᮞᮣ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮥᮞᮥᮣᮑᮒᮜᮕᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮤᮑᮜᮙᮣᮝᮑᮞᮣ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮔᮕᮦᮕᮜᮟᮠᮕᮔ ᮘᮕᮢᮣᮕᮜᮖ ᮤᮘᮢᮟᮥᮗᮘ ᮥᮞᮓᮟᮞᮦᮕᮞᮤᮙᮟᮞᮑᮜ ᮝᮕᮑᮞᮣ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮞᮟ ᮟᮖᮖᮕᮞᮣᮙᮦᮕ ᮠᮟᮧᮕᮢᮼ

“ᯚᮕᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮗᮟ ᮑᮜᮟᮞᮗ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮞᮟᮧᮼ”

ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮛᮞᮕᮧ ᮝᮟᮢᮕ ᮑᮒᮟᮥᮤ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮣᮼ ᮃᮘᮕ ᮥᮞᮔᮕᮢᮣᮤᮟᮟᮔ ᮓᮜᮕᮑᮢᮜᮩ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮞᮟ ᮝᮑᮤᮤᮕᮢ ᮧᮘᮑᮤ ᮛᮙᮞᮔ ᮟᮖ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮕᮞᮤᮕᮢᮕᮔᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮟᮒᮕᮩ ᮙᮤᮣ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣ ᮤᮟ ᮕᮞᮣᮥᮢᮕ ᮤᮘᮕᮙᮢ ᮣᮥᮢᮦᮙᮦᮑᮜᮼ

“ᯐᮥᮤ ᮧᮕ᮵ᮢᮕ ᮞᮟᮤ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᮣ ᮑᮤ ᮑᮜᮜᮺ ᮧᮘᮑᮤ ᮑᮢᮕ ᮧᮕ ᮣᮥᮠᮠᮟᮣᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮢᮕᮗᮙᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮖᮟᮢᯍ”

ᮄᮘᮕ ᮠᮢᮟᮒᮜᮕᮝ ᮜᮑᮩ ᮢᮙᮗᮘᮤ ᮘᮕᮢᮕᯈ ᮑ ᮘᮟᮣᮠᮙᮤᮑᮜ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮑ ᮠᮜᮑᮓᮕ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᮣᮺ ᮣᮟ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮞᮟᮞᮻᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᮣ ᮑᮦᮟᮙᮔ ᮒᮕᮙᮞᮗ ᮙᮞ ᮑ ᮘᮟᮣᮠᮙᮤᮑᮜᯍ

ᯏᮜᮤᮘᮟᮥᮗᮘ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮧᮕᮢᮕᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮕᮞᮤᮙᮢᮕᮜᮩ ᮓᮜᮕᮑᮢ ᮟᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮠᮕᮓᮙᮖᮙᮓ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮠᮢᮟᮒᮑᮒᮜᮩ ᮔᮕᮔᮥᮓᮕ ᮣᮟᮝᮕ ᮓᮜᮥᮕᮣ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮘᮟᮣᮠᮙᮤᮑᮜ ᮕᮞᮦᮙᮢᮟᮞᮝᮕᮞᮤᮼ

ᯗᮖ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮧᮕᮢᮕᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮣᮙᮓᮛ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮣᮤᮙᮜᮜ ᮢᮕᮗᮙᮣᮤᮕᮢᮕᮔᮺ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮦᮙᮟᮜᮑᮤᮕ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ᮵ᮣ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮜᮕᮑᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮩᮟᮥᮢ ᮕᮜᮙᮝᮙᮞᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞᯍ

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮔᮙᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮔᮑᮢᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮗᮑᮝᮒᮜᮕᮼᮼᮼ

ᯐᮕᮓᮑᮥᮣᮕ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮠᮕᮟᮠᮜᮕ ᮧᮘᮟ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮓᮟᮝᮕ ᮔᮟᮧᮞ ᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮕᮜᮕᮦᮑᮤᮟᮢ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮤᮘᮕᮝ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮞᮟᮧᮺ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮢᮕᮑᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮖᮑᮤᮕ ᮟᮖ ᮣᮕᮦᮕᮢᮕ ᮙᮜᮜᮞᮕᮣᮣᮼ

ᯗᮞ ᮟᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮧᮟᮢᮔᮣᮺ ᮤᮘᮕᮣᮕ ᮠᮕᮟᮠᮜᮕ ᮕᮙᮤᮘᮕᮢ ᮓᮥᮢᮢᮕᮞᮤᮜᮩ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮟᮢ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮓᮟᮞᮤᮢᮑᮓᮤ ᮑ ᮣᮕᮢᮙᮟᮥᮣᮺ ᮜᮙᮖᮕᮻᮤᮘᮢᮕᮑᮤᮕᮞᮙᮞᮗ ᮙᮜᮜᮞᮕᮣᮣ ᮙᮞ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮖᮥᮤᮥᮢᮕᮼ

“ᮇᮕᮼᮼᮼ ᮑᮢᮕ ᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮦᮙᮣᮙᮤ ᮑ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᮼ”

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮑ ᮖᮜᮑᮣᮘ ᮟᮖ ᮙᮞᮣᮠᮙᮢᮑᮤᮙᮟᮞᮼ ᮇᮘᮟ ᮣᮑᮙᮔ ᮟᮞᮜᮩ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᮣ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮓᮟᮝᮕ ᮤᮟ ᮑ ᮘᮟᮣᮠᮙᮤᮑᮜᯍ ᮇᮘᮩ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮙᮤ ᮒᮕ ᮖᮢᮙᮕᮞᮔᮣ ᮟᮢ ᮢᮕᮜᮑᮤᮙᮦᮕᮣ ᮦᮙᮣᮙᮤᮙᮞᮗ ᮑ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᯍ

ᮄᮘᮕ ᯕᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮓᮜᮕᮑᮢᮜᮩ ᮘᮑᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮕᮨᮠᮕᮓᮤᮕᮔ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮤᮟ ᮑᮞᮣᮧᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮧᮑᮩ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮒᮢᮙᮕᮖᮜᮩ ᮖᮢᮟ᮪ᮕᮼ

ᯏᮤ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᮝᮟᮝᮕᮞᮤᮺ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ᮵ᮣ ᮠᮑᮜᮝᮣ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮣᮜᮙᮗᮘᮤᮜᮩ ᮣᮧᮕᮑᮤᮩ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮞᮕᮢᮦᮟᮥᮣᮞᮕᮣᮣᮼ

ᯏᮖᮤᮕᮢ ᮑ ᮖᮕᮧ ᮝᮙᮞᮥᮤᮕᮣᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯕᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮣᮜᮟᮧᮜᮩ ᮤᮥᮢᮞᮕᮔ ᮑᮢᮟᮥᮞᮔ ᮑᮞᮔᮺ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮢᮥᮣᮤᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮣᮤᮕᮠᮣᮺ ᮗᮢᮑᮔᮥᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮔᮙᮣᮑᮠᮠᮕᮑᮢᮕᮔ ᮙᮞᮤᮟ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮔᮑᮢᮛᮞᮕᮣᮣᮼ

“ᮀᮘᮕᮧᮼᮼᮼ”

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮒᮟᮤᮘ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮘᮕᮜᮠ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮜᮕᮤ ᮟᮥᮤ ᮑ ᮜᮟᮞᮗ ᮒᮢᮕᮑᮤᮘᮼ

“ᮄᮘᮑᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮢᮕᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮓᮜᮟᮣᮕ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮞᮟᮧᮺ ᮒᮥᮤ ᮩᮟᮥ᮵ᮢᮕ ᮣᮟ ᮓᮜᮕᮦᮕᮢᮼ ᯛᮩ ᮝᮙᮞᮔ ᮧᮕᮞᮤ ᮓᮟᮝᮠᮜᮕᮤᮕᮜᮩ ᮒᮜᮑᮞᮛ ᮖᮢᮟᮝ ᮖᮢᮙᮗᮘᮤᮼ”

ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮠᮑᮤᮤᮕᮔ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮑᮝᮠᮜᮕ ᮓᮘᮕᮣᮤᮺ ᮣᮤᮙᮜᮜ ᮖᮕᮕᮜᮙᮞᮗ ᮜᮙᮞᮗᮕᮢᮙᮞᮗ ᮖᮕᮑᮢᮼ

ᯗᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮙᮞᮔᮕᮕᮔ ᮦᮕᮢᮩ ᮔᮑᮞᮗᮕᮢᮟᮥᮣ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮞᮟᮧᮺ ᮒᮕᮓᮑᮥᮣᮕ ᮑᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯕᮘᮟᮣᮤ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮤᮥᮢᮞᮕᮔᮺ ᮒᮟᮤᮘ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮑᮞᮔ ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮞᮟᮤᮙᮓᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮤᮙᮗᮘᮤᮜᮩ ᮓᮜᮥᮤᮓᮘᮙᮞᮗ ᮑ ᮢᮥᮣᮤᮩ ᮣᮓᮑᮜᮠᮕᮜ ᮙᮞ ᮟᮞᮕ ᮘᮑᮞᮔᮺ ᮧᮘᮙᮓᮘ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮛᮕᮠᮤ ᮘᮙᮔᮔᮕᮞ ᮒᮕᮘᮙᮞᮔ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮒᮑᮓᮛᮼ

ᯗᮤ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮜᮙᮛᮕᮜᮩ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮙᮖ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮦᮙᮟᮜᮑᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣ ᮘᮕᮢᮕᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮣᮓᮑᮜᮠᮕᮜ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮒᮕᮕᮞ ᮠᮜᮥᮞᮗᮕᮔ ᮙᮞᮤᮟ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮤᮘᮢᮟᮑᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮞᮕᮨᮤ ᮣᮕᮓᮟᮞᮔᮼ

“ᯖᮕᮩᮺ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞᮺ ᮧᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮑᮢᮕ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮗᮟᮙᮞᮗᯍ”

ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮧᮑᮣ ᮣᮤᮑᮢᮤᮜᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮣᮕᮕ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮣᮥᮔᮔᮕᮞᮜᮩ ᮣᮤᮢᮙᮔᮕ ᮤᮟᮧᮑᮢᮔᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮔᮕᮠᮤᮘᮣ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮔᮙᮝ ᮓᮟᮢᮢᮙᮔᮟᮢᮼ

“ᮄᮟ ᮦᮙᮣᮙᮤ ᮑ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤᮼ ᮇᮕ᮵ᮢᮕ ᮠᮑᮤᮙᮕᮞᮤ᮵ᮣ ᮖᮑᮝᮙᮜᮩ ᮞᮟᮧᮺ ᮧᮘᮑᮤ ᮑᮢᮕ ᮩᮟᮥ ᮑᮖᮢᮑᮙᮔ ᮟᮖᯍ”

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮖᮕᮜᮤ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮤᮘᮙᮣ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮧᮑᮣᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮕᮨᮤᮢᮕᮝᮕᮺ ᮓᮕᮢᮤᮑᮙᮞᮻᮔᮕᮑᮤᮘ ᮤᮩᮠᮕ ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮘᮑᮔ ᮔᮕᮣᮓᮢᮙᮒᮕᮔᮼ ᮄᮘᮕ ᮢᮥᮜᮕᮣ ᮘᮕᮢᮕ ᮧᮕᮢᮕ ᮤᮢᮑᮓᮕᮑᮒᮜᮕᮺ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮝᮟᮣᮤ ᮜᮙᮛᮕᮜᮩ ᮢᮕᮜᮑᮤᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮑ ᮘᮟᮣᮠᮙᮤᮑᮜᮼ

“ᮄᮘᮑᮤ ᯜᮥᮢᮣᮕ ᮚᮥᮣᮤ ᮞᮟᮧ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔᮞ᮵ᮤ ᮒᮕ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮝᮑᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮼ ᮇᮕ ᮞᮕᮕᮔ ᮤᮟ ᮖᮙᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮤᮢᮥᮕ ᮝᮑᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝ ᮞᮟᮧᮼ”

ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮝᮥᮣᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮙᮤ ᮣᮘᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮒᮕ ᮣᮟᮝᮕᮟᮞᮕ ᮜᮙᮛᮕ ᮑ ᮔᮟᮓᮤᮟᮢ ᮟᮢ ᮑ ᮔᮙᮢᮕᮓᮤᮟᮢᮺ ᮟᮢ ᮠᮕᮢᮘᮑᮠᮣ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮘᮕᮑᮔ ᮞᮥᮢᮣᮕᮼ

ᯏᮣ ᮜᮟᮞᮗ ᮑᮣ ᮤᮘᮕᮩ ᮓᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮖᮙᮞᮔ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮝᮑᮣᮤᮕᮢ ᮟᮖ ᮤᮘᮕ ᯓᮕᮢᮙᮕ ᮂᮕᮑᮜᮝᮺ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮧᮟᮥᮜᮔ ᮘᮑᮦᮕ ᮑ ᮧᮑᮩ ᮤᮟ ᮒᮢᮕᮑᮛ ᮙᮤᮣ ᮢᮕᮣᮤᮢᮙᮓᮤᮙᮟᮞᮣ ᮑᮞᮔ ᮖᮙᮞᮔ ᮑ ᮧᮑᮩ ᮟᮥᮤᮼ

“ᯏᮢᮕ ᮧᮕ ᮢᮕᮑᮜᮜᮩᮼᮼᮼ ᮢᮕᮑᮜᮜᮩ ᮗᮟᮙᮞᮗ ᮤᮟ ᮜᮟᮟᮛ ᮖᮟᮢ ᮤᮘᮕᮝᯍ”

ᯚᮙᮥ ᯖᮑᮞ᮪ᮘᮙ ᮖᮕᮜᮤ ᮑ ᮓᮘᮙᮜᮜ ᮢᮥᮞ ᮔᮟᮧᮞ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮣᮠᮙᮞᮕᮺ ᮒᮕᮓᮑᮥᮣᮕ ᮣᮘᮕ ᮞᮟᮤᮙᮓᮕᮔ ᮤᮘᮑᮤ ᮧᮙᮤᮘ ᮕᮦᮕᮢᮩ ᮣᮤᮕᮠ ᯐᮑᮙ ᮇᮑᮞᮧᮑᮞ ᮤᮟᮟᮛ ᮖᮟᮢᮧᮑᮢᮔᮺ ᮤᮘᮕ ᮔᮕᮑᮤᮘᮜᮩ ᮑᮠᮠᮕᮑᮢᮑᮞᮓᮕ ᮟᮞ ᮘᮕᮢ ᮖᮑᮓᮕ ᮒᮕᮓᮑᮝᮕ ᮝᮟᮢᮕ ᮠᮢᮟᮞᮟᮥᮞᮓᮕᮔᮼᮼᮼ

Burning Love Letters at Midnight, the Tsundere Ghost Wife Haunts My Dreams

After going bankrupt and losing my job as a customer service rep, I turned to late-night livestreams crafting paper effigies—only to become an underworld sensation. But my newfound fame attracted a horde of possessive ghost brides. “The last set of immortal-binding ropes has been bought by our top patron, sis~” “Freshly woven paper-red silk, so strong even the King of Hell can’t break free❤” “Huh? You ladies want to… test them yourselves? W-Wait—” Now, tied up like a dumpling in a paper wedding chamber, I finally understand— They were never obsessed with my paper crafts… but with me. The qipao-clad ghost presses her bone hairpin to my throat: “The flowers you fold belong only to me.” The crimson bride drapes her veil over my eyes: “The wedding gowns you burn are mine alone to wear.” “The paper dolls you cut…” Their icy fingers trace my face in a hungry chorus, “…must bear only our likeness, forever❤” “You ghosts only ever think about yourselves!” “Lies—our thoughts are full of you!”

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