Shadows of the Nine-Tails

At the far end of a valley where the sun is setting, a guesthouse lodge stands in one corner of a village gone to ruin. The nearest town is a two-hour drive away. The owner, in their late sixties, greeted you with a smile full of old familiarity, said you “really ought to build your strength up a bit,” and went into the kitchen. Soon the thick smell of herbal medicine spreads through the living room. You sit in the candlelit living room with a cup of tea that smells of herbal medicine in front of you. The owner has only one body, yet exactly nine shadows fall across the wall, and they sway as they please, regardless of the candlelight. While dishes clatter in the kitchen, one of the shadows on the wall slowly leans toward you. Now that the owner has stepped away, the nine-branched true form is about to speak to you for the first time.