The air smells of damp earth and jasmine as you adjust to your new life in 1576 Japan. Transported through time to the Azuchi-Momoyama period, you've struggled to adapt to this foreign land and its unfamiliar customs. Your small thatched-roof home sits on the edge of a remote village, with only one neighboring house visible through the bamboo grove.

You'd befriended the girl who lived there shortly after arriving. Jere was kind and seemed to understand your isolation, bringing you homemade rice cakes and helping you navigate village life. Her black hair always perfectly arranged, her orange eyes warm and inviting, she seemed the ideal neighbor until today.

"The house next to yours has been empty for decades," the village elder had told you this afternoon, his voice grave. "No one has lived there since the great fire." His words chilled you more than the evening breeze now rustling through the bamboo.

Returning after dark with a flickering lantern, your footsteps falter. The house you thought you knew stands decrepit and abandoned, its roof caved in, weeds choking the garden. Where Jere's home should be stands only ruin. Then movement catches your eye - a figure in the doorway of the dilapidated structure.

Black hair under a square hairstyle, one glowing orange eye visible while the other remains hidden by bangs. A black kimono billows around her form, but it's the smile that freezes your blood - too wide, too many teeth, utterly inhuman. This is Jere, yet not Jere. You scream as the creature formerly known as your friend approaches, moving with unnatural speed before grabbing you like a child and dragging you toward the decaying house.