Chapter 31

Twilight deepened, the setting sun casting long, slanted shadows.

The crimson clouds stained the sky like a raging fire, and the hazy afterglow spilled across the earth, as if cloaking all things in a flushed, rosy mantle. A gentle evening breeze drifted by, carrying a touch of crisp coolness and the faint fragrance of flowers and grass as it slipped through the window into the dormitory.

On the second-floor balcony, Gojo Satoru had recently installed a sofa, a table and chairs, a coffee machine, a water dispenser, potted plants, a rug, and wall art. He had even added curtains, effectively transforming the balcony into a lounge. As for its original purpose—drying laundry—that remained unaffected; by nudging the hangers slightly toward the window, the clothes dried just fine. Of course, before the renovation, Gojo had sought approval from Yaga Masamichi, or rather, the principal, before taking action.

The four first-years were all present. Gojo and Geto Suguru sat cross-legged on lounge chairs facing each other. It is worth noting that these wooden loungers were fitted with soft, integrated cushions, perfect for lounging and basking in the sun during leisure hours.

"Eh? To run into something like that... you and Fyodor are truly unlucky," Ieiri Shoko said. She occupied the sole three-seater sofa, lying prone with her chin resting on her right hand, her left hand dangling in the air. Her tone was lazy, laced with a hint of surprise and pity.

"That sounds way too dangerous. Though, if it were me, it would have been a different story," Gojo said, dropping a black stone held between his fingers. "Aha! I win!" He curled his finger triumphantly at Geto.

Geto stared at the board for a few seconds, confirming he had no chance of a comeback, before leaning his head forward. Gojo immediately picked up a strip of white paper from his side and slapped it onto Geto’s forehead. "Admit it, Suguru. You can't beat me at Gomoku!"

Although only half a month had passed, the relationship between Gojo and Geto had progressed by leaps and bounds; they had already begun calling each other by their given names. Because they rarely did ‘bad things’ alone—usually acting as a pair whenever they did—Shoko had dubbed them: "Birds of a feather."

The incident with the Buddha-statue Cursed Spirit had occurred during the day, and Geto and Fyodor had returned to school near dusk. After speaking with Yaga, the sky had turned completely red. Upon returning to the dorms, they ran into Shoko, who was smoking by the vending machine, and Gojo, who was chugging a drink. Once Gojo asked about the mission, the four headed to the balcony for their daily chat. Geto had given a concise account of the events, leading to the present scene. (For the record, the technical college had no dorm warden, or Shoko would never have dared to smoke in the first-floor hallway.)

"That reminds me of something," Gojo said, watching Geto clear the board, his eyes unfocused. "It was around July or August of last year? I can't quite remember the exact date. One night, quite late, I received a call from 'The Window.' They said they'd detected a Special Grade and wanted me to handle it. I agreed, but just as I changed my clothes and stepped out the door, the phone rang again. They said the readings had dropped back to a safe level and thanked me. But..."

"But what?" Geto urged, sorting the black and white stones into their respective boxes.

"It wasn't my doing. I had barely stepped out, let alone arrived," Gojo shrugged. "The next day, I had some free time, so I called them back to ask who had handled it, but 'The Window' said they didn't know. The similarity to your incident is that there was no residual cursed energy left behind by any sorcerer."

As the voices of Gojo, Geto, and Shoko hummed in the background, Fyodor, curled up in a beanbag chair, let his thoughts drift.

True acting requires one to fully immerse oneself in a persona. Thus, Fyodor had sensed something amiss from the very beginning. The homeowner’s pale complexion, heavy eye bags, and vacant gaze—he was like a soulless puppet, giving Fyodor the impression of being controlled. Yet, his tone was inexplicably "passionate and agitated," overflowing with emotion.

Then there was the ticking of the clock. On the surface, there was nothing wrong with it; it followed a standard rhythm. But it was *too* regular—so regular that, after listening for a while, one’s mind would naturally fall into a habitual pattern. That is the very principle hypnotists use with pocket watches. Fyodor also noticed that a grey sparrow perched on a branch outside had not "moved" for a long time. By "moved," he meant the bird was repeating the exact same action: lowering its head to preen its feathers, roughly every eight seconds.

Everything was filled with a strange, artificial peace.

To test his hypothesis, Fyodor pulled out his phone and wrote a quick piece of code on the spot to hack into the roadside surveillance. He intentionally included a minor flaw, ensuring the code would run but lag after a few seconds. He had observed the surroundings while approaching the client’s house and noticed a utility pole with a camera facing a room on the side of the building. Once inside, he realized the camera was aimed directly at the mother's room.

When Geto noticed him "playing on his phone" and warned him, it was all within Fyodor's expectations. He successfully hacked the camera and observed the locked room; the feed did not stutter for even a moment. Fyodor understood then.

Later, when the Buddha-statue Cursed Spirit intentionally turned the world blood-red—a clear signal of "Oh, look, it opened its Domain!"—it was merely an attempt to deepen the impression and continue leading them on. The truth was that the spirit had likely pulled them into its Domain the moment they stepped into the house.

In that light, the Buddha-statue spirit was indeed terrifying—a powerful and cautious enemy. But, fortunately, he had a trump card of his own.

When the spirit "burst" through the door, Fyodor used his ability without hesitation, intending to enter the spirit's mental world and destroy its core with his "touch of death." That way, the entity in reality would become fragile, and even if Geto remained trapped, he could resolve the crisis alone. As for how to explain it to Geto afterward, he had plenty of excuses.

Trust is such an easy thing to exploit. Just as Gojo had questioned his explanation of his "Cursed Technique" at the start, he hadn't pressed the issue later. Geto was even easier to deceive; as a newcomer to the jujutsu world, he was less likely to be suspicious and wouldn't even notice the loopholes in Fyodor's story. Even if he learned more through formal study later, his initial assumption would be that Fyodor was beyond reproach.

...However, upon entering the spirit's mental world, Fyodor’s nonchalance was shattered. He saw nothing, and he was falling continuously through a dark void.

Fyodor didn't rush to withdraw his ability. He looked around, wondering if this dark space held some secret. After all, a powerful Special Grade might be able to hide its internal world. As he fell, a point of light appeared less than half a meter above him. The light elongated and stretched, forming a rectangle roughly his own size and shape. As the white light faded, Fyodor saw a mirror reflecting his own image.

*What does this mean...?*

As Fyodor pondered, his reflection reached out and gently stroked his cheeks. Fyodor, who had seen his fair share of strange sights, looked surprised. "Who are you?" he asked.

The figure in the mirror did not answer. Its hands slid down his cheeks to his neck, crossed over his back, and finally pulled him into a tight embrace. The mirror shattered into stardust and remained where it was, while Fyodor continued to fall, watching the glittering fragments fade into the distance.

The entity that had detached from the mirror rested its head on his shoulder, its hair tickling his jaw.

"My best friend, my closest other half."

The figure finally spoke, its voice as gentle as a lover’s whisper. It seemed intent on pressing Fyodor into its own ribcage, its embrace tightening, unashamedly expressing its possessiveness and desire for control. Fyodor remained silent and still, letting the figure squeeze him until his bones ached, as if he were a ragdoll.

*So the Buddha-statue spirit is preventing me from entering its mental world,* Fyodor surmised. *How, then, should I escape this predicament?*

Before he could decide, the figure holding him suddenly released its grip and pushed him. That single shove sent Fyodor hurtling back into reality.

*Is the Buddha-statue spirit truly that formidable?* It was Fyodor’s first real setback, but shortly after, upon seeing the corpse of the spirit, he realized something was wrong. The figure in the mirror did not seem to be a creation of the Buddha-statue spirit at all.

...

"Fyodor... you agree, right?"

Fyodor snapped back to reality, looking at Gojo and Geto, who were both staring at him. He tilted his head innocently. "I agree."

"Agree with what! Fyodor, you weren't listening to a word I said, were you!" Gojo accused.

"That reminds me, there's a question I've wanted to ask for a while," Geto said. "That thing you did on your phone earlier—how exactly did you pull that off?"

"That? I hacked into the roadside surveillance. I was quite lucky; there happened to be a camera facing the room."

"Is that so?" Geto sighed, rubbing his forehead with a wry smile. "I should have expected as much from a Russian. Tell me, is it true that everyone in Russia is a hacker?"

"Hardly. That's just a stereotype."

"It's really hard not to stereotype when you act like that."

April 27, 2004, the day after the Buddha-statue Cursed Spirit incident.

Wayama Yasumi and Yaga Masamichi arrived at 1-6-341, Shinagawa Ward. The homeowner was not there, but upon learning that official personnel had been sent to investigate, he rushed back by car to hand over the keys to Wayama.

"Are you not going to stay and watch?" Wayama asked.

"No need. I still have to handle my mother’s funeral arrangements. As for the rest... I'll leave it to you. I hope you can resolve this completely. I plan to sell the house; staying here only reminds me of the trauma, and I can't in good conscience scam someone else into buying it..."

"Please rest assured, we will handle it."

"That's good. I'll be going then."

Watching the owner drive away, Wayama nodded to Yaga, inserted the key into the lock, and with a *click*, the door swung open.