"Why does there have to be a typhoon today?!"
Iijichi Kiyotaka stared at the raging storm outside the window, his face pale.
"I have to go out later, damn it!"
Of all days, the typhoon had to make landfall today. Couldn't it have come one day later?
There was no way to go out in this weather!
"No, no. I promised my niece I'd go today. As a responsible adult, I can't break my word!"
Iijichi nodded firmly.
Suppressing his unease, he charged into the parking lot with determination.
Soon after, a black car drove out of the parking lot and plunged into the downpour.
Ring ring~!
Just as he was focusing intently on driving through the storm, the phone suddenly rang in the confined space.
Startled, Iijichi stiffened. When he saw the caller ID, his expression turned extremely serious, and his hunched back straightened instantly.
He pulled over and answered the call.
"Mr. Roy, how may I assist you?"
He forced a smile and bowed repeatedly while speaking into the phone.
"I need to go out. Are you free?"
"Well... to be honest, I'm not at Jujutsu High right now."
"Hmm? You're out in this heavy rain?"
"Yes, I have something important today... I sincerely apologize!"
Iijichi bowed deeply to his phone, full of guilt.
Only after bowing did he realize—
The person on the other end couldn't even see his gesture, yet he'd done it reflexively.
Such was the deeply ingrained instinct of a corporate drone!
"I see. Then it can't be helped. I'll find someone else."
With that, the call ended abruptly.
Iijichi exhaled in relief, his rigid posture gradually relaxing as he slumped into the driver's seat like a sponge.
Working with Jujutsu High's teachers—especially Mr. Roy—was no easy task!
First of all, he was a Special Grade sorcerer and a high-ranking member of the higher-ups, making him the boss of bosses. The utmost respect was mandatory.
Most crucially, this man was truly ruthless. Just this morning, Iijichi had heard that one of the higher-ups had been stripped of everything, going from a government elite to unemployed overnight—all because he'd offended Mr. Roy!
"Terrifying!"
Iijichi wiped his face and restarted the car, driving back into the storm.
He was an assistant supervisor at Jujutsu High.
The role of an assistant supervisor is akin to that of administrative staff, specifically handling miscellaneous tasks related to cursed spirit incidents. These include coordinating on-site execution rights between the Metropolitan Police Department and the Jujutsu Division, verifying whether the information reported by the "window" is related to cursed spirits, and erecting barriers to prevent ordinary people from witnessing such events—all fall under the purview of assistant supervisors.
Typically, they are individuals who enrolled at Jujutsu High but ultimately failed to awaken a cursed technique, leaving them with minimal combat prowess. Unable to become jujutsu sorcerers who engage in life-or-death battles with cursed spirits, they can only serve as support personnel, assisting with trivial tasks.
Being a chauffeur for sorcerers is also part of their job.
In short, whether in terms of strength or status, they are quite low-ranking. When faced with someone like Roy, whose power and standing are immeasurably high, they naturally feel an overwhelming sense of intimidation.
The car cautiously navigated through the rain for over an hour before Ijichi Kiyotaka finally reached his destination—the Shimokitazawa area.
After parking in a nearby lot, Ijichi rushed into the torrential downpour with an umbrella in hand. The gale-force winds lashed raindrops against his face like machine-gun fire, bending the umbrella's frame out of shape.
"Whew, going out in a typhoon is really tough!"
After what felt like an eternity, Ijichi Kiyotaka, now drenched, arrived at an underground livehouse by the roadside.
The signboard at the entrance bore the flashy words "STARRY" in neon lights that rhythmically flickered.
Ijichi shook the water off his umbrella before pushing open the door and stepping inside.
The livehouse wasn't particularly large—it resembled an ordinary café, with a maximum capacity of a few dozen people. Near the entrance was a counter for beverage sales, while the center featured an open space with a stage at the far end for live performances.
"Sorry I'm late!"
Ijichi placed his umbrella by the door, patting the raindrops that had soaked his black suit as he offered an apologetic smile to the woman who approached him.
The woman who greeted him had waist-length golden hair and amber-like, pale yellow eyes. She appeared to be in her twenties, her calm demeanor exuding reliability.
"Going out in this typhoon is hard enough. Take a seat first, Uncle. Would you like something to drink?"
"No need to be so formal. Just some tea is fine, Seika."
"This is a livehouse—at least name a proper drink."
"Then orange juice, please."
Ijichi walked further in and took a seat at the counter.
"Has Nijika's band started their performance yet?"
"Not yet."
The composed blonde, Seika Ijichi, poured a glass of orange juice from the drink dispenser behind the counter and placed it in front of Kiyotaka.
"There aren't many people here today. The typhoon must've scared them off. It's so unfair to Nijika—this is her band's first live show!"
Ijichi took a sip of his orange juice, but his attention was entirely focused on the backstage area, his eyes filled with worry and distress.
Seika remained silent.
Outside, the storm showed no signs of letting up—it seemed this weather would persist all day.
In this kind of weather, the number of people willing to go out was already few and far between. Those willing to come to their shop and listen to the debut performance of an unknown band were even rarer.
For a new band's debut, unless they had some gimmick, it was rare for a livehouse to foot the bill for their promotion. Bands like Kessoku Band, completely unknown, had to shoulder almost all the expenses themselves. They even bought the tickets with their own money and gave them away for free, hoping to make a name for themselves with their first performance.
If the initial few performances failed to gain them recognition, the band would most likely fade into obscurity until disbanding.
They had given out the tickets, but the heavens weren't cooperating.
It felt like a cruel joke.
On a typhoon day like this, how many people would be willing to come listen to a band with no reputation?
The livehouse was nearly empty, with only a handful of people scattered here and there.
And even those few were fans drawn by other bands performing the same day—completely unrelated to Kessoku Band.
Suddenly, a creaking sound broke the silence.
The shop door was pushed open.
Two figures walked in.
The man had white hair and red eyes, his face so perfectly sculpted it seemed divinely crafted—mesmerizing at first glance. Tall and broad-shouldered with a narrow waist, his imposing frame exuded an overwhelming aura of masculine energy.
Beside him was a girl who was undeniably beautiful, her delicate features almost goddess-like. Petite, she only reached up to the white-haired young man's armpit, clinging to his side like an accessory. She wore a dark long-sleeved T-shirt and pants, with even a scarf wrapped around her neck, covering every inch of her body.
The two looked intimate, chatting and laughing as they entered, like a couple deeply in love.
Iijichi took another sip of orange juice, glancing at them absentmindedly.
"Pfft!!!"
The next second, he spat out his drink.
"Cough! Cough! Cough!"
He choked so hard it reached his windpipe.
"M-Mr. R-Roy?! Why are you here?"
Iijichi stood up in disbelief, his expression shifting from distress to reverence in an instant. His back instinctively bent forward, adopting a posture that screamed, "I am listening attentively to your words."
Beside him, Seika, seeing his reaction, froze in confusion.
What was going on?
Was this his superior at work?
A superior in his teens?
"Iijichi? Weren't you busy? What are you doing here?"
The moment Roy stepped inside, he heard someone call his name. Turning toward the voice, he was surprised to see Iijichi Kiyotaka, the assistant supervisor he had initially contacted but who had been unavailable due to prior commitments.
Okita stood beside him, her curious gaze wandering over the livehouse's facilities.
The Holy Grail War she had participated in wasn't a normal one, and the Grail had provided her with only limited knowledge of the modern era. Places like livehouses had long faded into history—this was her first time seeing one in person.
What could possibly attract a Master to a place like this?
"Because I am busy, that's why I'm here," Iijichi answered respectfully.
"Your business is being here?"
Roy's expression instantly turned peculiar.
You look like such a proper corporate drone, yet you actually enjoy coming to small livehouses to watch indie band performances?
"Yes, this is my niece's shop. There's a special performance tonight, and I promised long ago to come support her. I can't go back on my word."
Ijichi gave the perfect corporate drone response, not only providing his reason for being here, but also explaining why he couldn't drive Roy, all very diplomatically.
"Your niece owns this place?"
Roy shifted his gaze from him to the blonde woman beside them.
Noticing his glance and assuming he might be her uncle's superior, Seika Ijichi, not wanting to embarrass her uncle, also stood up and gave Roy a slight bow.
"Hello, I'm Seika Ijichi, the owner of this livehouse."
Roy raised an eyebrow.
Seika Ijichi.
He remembered—she was the elder sister of the archangel Hizuki.
So Ijichi Kiyotaka was actually Seika and Nijika's uncle?
This was so far beyond Roy's expectations that he hadn't even considered the possibility.
Was the world really like this?
"No, wait a minute."
Roy suddenly narrowed his eyes, his expression turning inscrutable.
"I remember—back when I had only been in this country for two days, Masamichi Yaga came to the Kita residence looking for me. I wondered how his intel was so good... The driver back then was you, wasn't it? So that's it. Nijika told you about me, and you tipped off Masamichi Yaga, right?"
Ijichi Kiyotaka stiffened at his words, sucking in a sharp breath.
Oh no!
He was sweating bullets now!