His first order of business was to investigate the shiny item that laid beneath the moonlit window to his left.  His eyes glinted with intrigue as he picked up a small roll of old film.  Much as he found it useless and undeveloped, he nevertheless took it with him, feeling that nothing in this mansion that shiny would be useless.  He then checked over the dresser on the other side of the room, along with its mirror.
Once again the mirror did not show his reflection.  He was really getting worried now about what curse must have been put upon him to do such a thing.
	"I should have asked that ghost before if I had any vampire bites," thought James aloud.
He opened the drawer, finding only two items of interest.  Another notebook which had its pages torn out, and several glass fragments which had a label stuck onto a larger piece, presumably from a glass container.  The label had some strange writing which James did not recognise at all, as well as the oddly cute face of a cow in the middle.  Feeling rather confused, he put the items back in the drawer and moved on.  But not before the oblong box tucked in the corner beside the dresser suddenly rattled with a hoarse scream.
James jumped with a mis-step, almost tripping as he clutched his heart in panic and swiftly ran off towards the twin set of doors, escaping into a smaller room.  Nothing of interest seemed to be here other than a large closet to his left in the corner, with a window and a small windowseat to his immediate left.  A scroll or two hung on the wall, imbibing him with the feel of classical Japan, not that he knew anything of it.
He saw a doorway head off to his right, the door having been left open and out towards a hallway where he could see something lit up.  For now he stayed in the room, deciding to check out the closet first.  There was always something important inside the closet.  Much to his surprise, there was.  Two torn pieces of paper, predictably from the notebook he had found in the dresser.  He smiled seeing that one of them was from the same writer as the other notebooks.

Month ~%, Day XX
I believe I finally understand the very nature of this mansion now.  Despite the fact that the curse is gone, the spirits have become rather attracted to it somehow.  I believe I know why.  Imagine someone dug a hole in a garden to make a well, and then filled it with water.  The water eventually has seeped away but the hole remains there still.  This is what the mansion is now.  A well, a hole for stray wandering ghosts to seep in like water and nestle here like birds migrating.  Some of them are good.  Some of them are not.
I believe the lingering power of the curse attracted them enough to know the place would make a fine haunting ground when its original occupants, such as this Kirie, have long departed.  I have confirmed from my readngs that she has no presence here anymore.  Now that she has left, we have a place that is even more unpredictably full of ghosts.  And I followed them here to make sure they do not mess with other poor unfortunate souls that might wander into this mansion by accident.
So far, as of this entry, I have compiled a small list of spectral squatters that now reside within this mansion.
The Boos I am most familiar with, and while they are mischievous to no end, they are mostly harmless.  The worst they can do is cluster together to create a most terrifying illusion to frighten others with.  Compared to the rest of their fellow phantoms here however, their threat is minimal.  If anything, I should fear for THEIR safety as well as my own!

	"Heh yeah," agreed the raptor, "I should worry about 'em too."
He then read the other note which was lying underneath the learned writer's.  It was written in a much different hand, far more erratic and panicky with fear.

dont follow the light the light is bad
dont follow the light the light is bad
dont follow the light the light is bad
dont follow the mask the mask will find me
dont follow the mask the mask will see me
dont follow the mask the mask will kill me

The ramblings of a madman served only as a warning to James.  A warning that he knew he would have to ignore in order to deal with this new enemy, which rendered the last words of this victim useless.  He knew it was disrespectful, but he had given enough solace to the dead in his life by now.  He headed towards the hallway where the light came from, finding the whole hallway to be lit up with a row of lanterns, at least one per every five steps.
The hall was L-shaped towards the south on his right, curling around the wall to a door.  To his left was a closet at the end with a small alcove showing another door.  Checking towards the closet first, nothing was inside for him to see.  The door was completely boarded up in the small alcove and remained completely inaccessible.  Which was a shame because it lead to a place much closer to his destination.
As soon as he turned round to head down the hall, the lanterns suddenly began to swing.  Their tender lights glazed back and forth across the walls as if an invisible hand had run through them, the sounds of a strange soft cackle resonating through them.  James readied himself for what he knew was his next opponent, heading towards the way the lanterns first swung.  The end of the L-shaped hall lead him to a lonesome door where a blue flame gently floated, all on its own.
He charged up a handful of raw ice, ready to extinguish it.  But then he saw it did nothing.  It did not attack, not even acknowledge him somehow.  He kept his hand cold just in case, as he tenderly walked towards it.  An aura seemed to be around it, one of sorrow.  Soon as he approached it, he felt a voice whisper to his mind.

	he is here
	do not let him find the mask

The flame soon wilted, flickering out of existence and leaving James all the more confused.  He opened the door before him.  Pulling it back, he saw a folding partition before him, like the ones tailors would use.  He didn't even try to be courteous for now, kicking it hard as it crumpled forwards onto the floor.  He found himself back in the fireplace room, a little surprised to see that there had been another door here after all, just beside the stairs.
But the moment he entered the familiar room, the door slammed shut behind him, and the fireplace had finally lit itself.  A darkened purple flame sprouted forth from the deadened embers, pulsating with an evil aura.  James knew he had found his target.  Somehow he knew, as he charged up his ice with a fierce gaze, the walls flickering with a whole new audience of shadows around him amidst violet-shaded walls.
	"Come on out!  I know you're here, show yourself!"
The flame soon coiled upwards to reveal something appear from the ether.  Ragged strips of cloth slowly began to curl from the tendrils of flames, unveiling an entire cloak stitch by crooked stitch.  A hood soon formed, where nothing but darkness laid beneath other than a pair of glowing yellow eyes, slitted and long like a cat's.  A black thin hand appeared from the cloak, revealing an old lantern, decorated in black iron rivulets, shining glimly.
	"Koleh hanan desoka?"
The ghost's voice was like a widow's nails scraping against an icy glass window.  Crooked yet piercing James' ears, making him flinch at its voice.  He tried to understand its language, but it was strange to his ears, somewhat reminiscent of Japanese but just somehow off.
	"What?  I don't understand your language."
	"Fuun...o no koro bako sonto shin-eh, inai betsu no katinonai bakan."
	"Who the hell are you!?  Tell me, now!"
	"Orokana!"
The creature swung its lantern towards him, creating an arc of darkened flames to sweep past the raptor and make him dodge.
	"Naze watashin han, karinonai lizalfos anaga o fukeru ka?!"
	"Now THAT I understood, you wanna fight?!"
	"Anaga wa kono basho ni sudeni shinde-dead in this place."
James smiled, his translator working in top form even after a good while of being out of practice.
	"You mind repeating that?  I got some bullshit stuck in my ear just now."
	"So, now you decide to speak my language at last?"
	"Whatever chickenshit you call it, yeah."
	"Do NOT insult the language of kings you pathetic lizard!  Why are you even here, there is nothing left for you to steal!"
	"I was brought here, actually.  Which is more than I can say for you."
	"...so...you are the one they spoke of."
	"Huh?  Who are you talking about?"
	"It does not matter...why did you seek me?"
	"Well, I thought it wasn't very nice what you did to those Boos back there."
	"Hmph, pitiful childish fools, they're not even true ghosts and have no business here."
	"That's no excuse asshole!"
	"Silence!"
The creature swung the lantern once more, slashing the very air with its infernal flames to swoop low towards the raptor's legs, forcing him to jump over.
	"The living have no right to speak of the dead.  You do not understand the trials of the afterlife, lizard."
	"Spare me the ancient-rites crap, you're just a bully alive or dead."
	"Hah...even your comparisons are pathetic.  Do you dare challenge me, to avenge those worthless tricksters you barely met?"
	"Maybe...if this is all about a mask."
The spirit's eyes widened slightly with a glimmer of surprise, tiny fingers tightly clasping the lantern ring.
	"...what do you know of it?"
	"Enough to know I should snuff that lantern of yours out and shove it down your throat if you don't tell me."
	"Kkhhha ha ha...you don't know anything.  You almost gave me a scare, how ironic would that be."
	"Just tell me what this mask is!"
James blasted out a warning shot of ice straight past the lantern, making the phantom scowl with insulted rage.
	"You DARE attack me?!  If you are so eager to learn, then you shall die for it!"

The ghost spun in a circle above the flames and slashed the air with its lantern, striking out a terrible black mist across the ground that James swiftly dodged.  He feared it to be poison, as he leapt into the air and struck out with a blast of ice straight towards it, striking into where its heart would be.  The thing reacted, shrieking but still floating as it charged towards James, knocking him hard against the wall before bashing him across the face.
The lantern burned like lava, making James scream at the white-hot strike as he smashed both fists straight into the spectre's eyes, stabbing it with icy tendrils and forcing it to back off in furious pain.  He could feel the welting burn on his cheek start to rise, cooling it down with a cold hand as he readied his next move.  The lantern-wielder however did not relent, spinning in a circle like a spectral ballerino to make its fire multiply from the lantern.
Darkened flames spread like wildfire, blasting out across the room and engulfing it in a deep indigo fire that swallowed the light around them.  James could feel the darkness come, the entire room turn black as sleep.  He tried to see the ghost, hearing the wispy sounds of its hovering evil and guiding himself towards it.  Not even his own fire was enough to light up the room, not that he wanted to use fire against fire.  He was already becoming paranoid of the darkness that consumed his sight.

Aiming with his senses, he was soon surprise-attacked by the ghost, who struck out from behind despite the fact he was against the wall.  The lantern smacked him violently against the back of his head, making him cry out and stumble before struggling to get up.  Dazed from the unexpected burning blow, he turned and sweeped out a powerful stream of water all around him.
Hearing a closer splash than anything else in the room, he aimed towards the source and fired a piercing ice shot straight towards it.  Direct hit.  The spectre shrieked as it flew back against a dresser, its transparent ways failing it briefly enough to slam hard against ancient wood.  James readily pounced, bringing out his scissors with a new idea coming to him.  If a creature like this could make its lantern radiate magic, why not his own weapon?
Creating a fierce edge along his blades of pure ice, he roared as he stabbed straight into the perceived heart of his foe.  The thing had not expected such a strong thrust, or such a weapon, and shrieked a mortal cry of defeat that made James' head blur from its ear-shattering scream.  It was piercing enough to even shatter the ice on his scissors, as the room returned back to normal.  The darkness died off, fading away along with the vile spirit, its lantern having disappeared in turn.  The fireplace returned to its cold unlit state.
James gently checked his face for the blows he received, feeling the burning throb on one of his cheeks and wishing he could find a way to look at it.
	"Phew," said James with relief, "glad that worked, guess my nanos CAN put stuff on the scissors...wonder if that works on other ghosts too...wait, what?"
He noticed something fall right in front of the dresser he stood at.  A torn piece of paper, possibly from a notebook judging by the writing of his new favourite penpal.  The paper seemed to emit a faded dark energy similar to that of the ghost he fought.
	"Huh, he musta been the guy who tore out the pages then."
The paper read:

The ragged lantern-wielder is most certainly a vengeful spirit, filled with malice and hateful fire.  Not your typical kind of fire caused by magic or science ohhhh no, but a far worse sort of fire that comes from the very bowels of wherever this thing is from!  Try to avoid the fire from touching you, or the lantern really which he will love to bash at you with.  He also tends to disappear a lot, really favours teleportation as a little overused trick of his.
If he teleports, do not despair.  Look out for the light that he still carries with him and keep an eye upon it.  I know that sounds simple but you'd be surprised how foolish people get when terrified out of their minds by a nasty ghost.  Then again, he might have learned a new tactic after I first encountered it, quite an unusual incident I must say.  I've never heard of a spirit who hates bottles with a passion.  I kept one of the bottles he destroyed that he must have brought with him for some reason, just to examine its traces.
I do not know this lantern-wielder's origins, but he most certainly comes from a land both ancient and regal, judging by the strange language it uses.

	"Yeah, a real regal asshole alright, you'd think he WAS a king the way he acted."
Putting the notebook paper into his pocket as he had done with the others, he checked his map once again and made his way towards the front entrance of the mansion.  The ropes still hung in the first hallway of the manor, and the mirror still showed no reflection of the raptor.  He could see the ropes that he gently tugged and moved with his hand, but nothing of himself.
Another terrible idea came to him.
	"Oh my god what if I'm a ghost?  ...what if I'm already dead!?  ...wait, how can I be dead if I'm still warm, jesus christ James you're an idiot...hey what's that?"
He saw something shiny in the mirror, glinting at the far end of the corridor behind him.  He hurried past the hanging ropes and found himself back in the front hall, still as dilapidated as ever.  The blue light of the shrine soothed him plenty before he had a chance to investigate this mysterious other door.  According to the map, it was situated on the wall to the right of the main entrance when coming in, where there hung a rather angry mask of some humanised demon.  Realising the significance the mask may have, he examined it cautiously, placing a hand on the wall and feeling it tilt slightly outwards.
	"...huh?"
He pushed a little more, and a section of the wall turned away from him, mask and all.
	"...son of a bitch."
James chuckled at seeing this, pushing past the wall and finding himself in a whole new hallway, far darker than the other ones he had been in.  It also seemed to be less well-kept than the other hallways had been, with half-attempted thatched ceilings placed here and there with no purpose.  The corridor split off to the east and to the north.  James headed straight onwards to the east first.
Nothing else was of interest other than another mask that hung upon a wall to his left.  A sad-looking mask of rather plain-faced misery, hung up on a little wall display.  He pushed on the section of wall gently, feeling the soft turn of hinges allowing him to turn the wall and walk into another room.  Already he felt more paranoid with claustrophobia than any other time in his life.  The entire room, as small as it was being not more than six steps from west to east, was full of masks.
A lot of them seemed to be quite similar and ritualistic of some sort, either pale with slanted eyes or dark with tribal swirls all over.  A central podium up a tiny flight of stairs had a few more masks hung up, but only one of them was left hanging.  A happy-looking mask, jolly with full cheeks and white skin.  It was a little too cheery for James' liking as he passed it by.  He saw another side of the room with a wall display, but no mask.  The map told him that was the way to go.
An idea came to him, taking the happy mask from its station.  But it would not move, firmly wedged in.  He would have left it alone had he not seen the note pinned to the pillar's side.

when the four masks reunite
then shall one be allowed to leave

	"Four masks?  ...I'm gonna guess none of the ones on the walls fit.  ...maybe the ones hung up outside?"
He decided to leave the small room, thankful to be away from its insufferably tight quarters as he headed back to where the angry mask was hung.  As he made his way towards it, he heard an ear-shattering scream from the west.  At first he tried to ignore it, reasoning that it couldn't be as urgent as he expected to be.
It could just be those stupid Boos again.  I'm not gonna fall for that, dammit he promised me that little-
	"H-HELP MEEEEEEE!"
	"BOORIS!"
Hearing the Boos themselves in great panic however proved him wrong and encouraged him to run out across the main entrance.  The screams of panic came from the grand hallway, the long one where he had felt the chill on his shoulder just past the rope hallway.
The long hall with opened sliding doors remained just as foreboding as it had first looked upon his arrival.  Far towards the other end of the room however, were several Boos trying to fight some sort of other creature.
	"G-GET OFF HIM!"
	"BOORIS, HANG ON!"
	"HELP ME!  PLEASE HELP MEEEEEEE!"
	"HEY, DINO BOY!"
One of the Boos saw FG standing at the other end of the hall, and hastily begged:
	"H-HELP US OUT HERE!"
	"What the hell is it?!"
	"I DUNNO BUT IT LOOKS LIKE YO-AAAGH!"
The unseen creature soon threw the little ghosts off him, powerfully scattering them in all directions as they shrieked with pain and popped through the walls.  The unseen creature soon threw the little ghosts off him, powerfully scattering them in all directions as they shrieked with pain and popped through the walls.  Then James saw it.

It was him.  His own self, dead with the spirits.