The trunk coiled around Tomoya's neck tightened with methodical precision. Air stopped flowing. His eyes bulged from their sockets, fingers clawing at the grip—futile.
His body swayed in the air, suspended like a rag doll. His feet kicked at nothing, searching for ground where there was none.
The curse didn't roar. Didn't growl. It just watched. Its red eyes locked on his face, twisted with desperation.
And then came the blow.
A punch straight to the stomach.
The curse's hand moved with cold brutality. The impact shook the concrete beneath.
The last of Tomoya's air fled his lungs as if ripped out with pliers. His torso bent involuntarily. A dry, almost barking sound escaped his throat.
"GHK—!"
His body convulsed violently. The pain didn't come alone—it brought spasms, mental fog, and the inner certainty that something had broken.
The trunk didn't release.
It held firm, as if the grip were a sentence, not a threat.
'It's going to kill me…'
'This is really going to kill me…'
Tomoya's mind shattered into flashes. Megumi's face. The school's floor. Yuta's anger. The humiliation.
'I can't… die here…'
His hands battered the trunk again. The nail of his middle finger snapped in the effort. The pain went unnoticed.
The creature didn't hesitate.
Its head tilted slightly back.
Its dislocated jaw—too wide, too wrong—began to open. The teeth weren't sharp. They were blunt. Broad. Like slabs of sawed concrete.
And the inside of its mouth wasn't flesh. It was shadow. A thick darkness, like smoke compressed inside a cave.
Tomoya saw.
Felt.
Understood.
'It's going to swallow me whole…'
"NNGHHHHHAAAAAAAHHH!!!"
The scream tore out, animalistic, choked in his throat. His legs thrashed in desperation, trying to break free, trying to escape the inevitable darkness opening before him.
The trunk pulled.
His body swung, like a bloodied puppet held by invisible strings.
Tomoya's face was the first to near the mouth.
The air grew cold. A rotten chill that burned his eyes even before direct contact.
"AAAAAHHHHH!!!"
Louder. Shriller. A scream that didn't beg for help. It was pure, raw panic.
The curse's jaw kept widening. Dry cracks echoed through the air. The bony plates of its head shifted to accommodate the body.
Tomoya tried to shrink his neck, pull his head back.
There was no space. No strength. No mercy.
His face went in first.
The shadow swallowed his nose, his eyes, his cheeks.
His skin burned at the touch of the smoke. As if spiritual acid seared his pores straight into his soul.
His arms flailed against the air. Random kicks hit nothing. His throat no longer formed words. Only sounds.
"GHHH…! GAAAH—!!"
His shoulder passed.
Then his neck.
The trunk merely released.
The rest of his body was consumed by the curse's own gravity.
For one second, Tomoya's feet still dangled outside the mouth.
In the next…
Nothing.
The creature closed its jaw slowly.
A final snap—like a vault locking shut.
Silence.
The air behind the gym was still. No wind. No sound.
The creature stood there for a moment, utterly silent.
As if it had absorbed more than flesh.
As if it had understood… something.
And then it vanished.
Evaporated into the dark.
Without a trace.
As if it had never existed.
Megumi's House
The dining room's light was soft, casting gentle shadows over the tablecloth. The plates had been served, and the food gave off a comforting aroma of homemade spices. Thin columns of steam rose, dissipating before reaching the ceiling.
Yuta chewed slowly, savoring deliberately. The food was genuinely good—simple but precise. The kind of meal made by someone who knew where to place each seasoning and why. He glanced subtly at Megumi's mother. The way she smiled, teased, and handled her food reminded him of an older version of her daughter.
"So, Yuta…"
She wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, smiling.
"You two are already at the point of visiting on weekdays? Should I be worried?"
Megumi rolled her eyes, but her expression stayed light.
"You're just happy because the dishes will be washed by two people tonight. Admit it."
"Look, if he washes well, he can come over more often."
Yuta propped his elbows on the table and met his mother-in-law's gaze with a brief smile.
"I wash well. I'll even wipe down the floor afterward if needed."
Her mother laughed. She raised her water glass in an informal toast.
"You're making me want to adopt you."
The dinner continued in a relaxed tone. Light conversation, gentle teasing, a few double-entendre jokes that Megumi pretended to ignore. But at one point, the focus shifted.
At the center of the table, amidst plates and utensils, a small object caught attention. The amulet.
One of the ones Yuta had made.
Megumi's mother reached out and picked it up with curiosity.
"You gave her this, didn't you?"
Yuta nodded.
Before her mother could continue, Megumi spoke with unexpected firmness:
"Put it around your neck. And don't take it off. Not even to sleep."
Her mother raised an eyebrow, surprised by the tone.
"But… why?"
"Just trust me. Do it."
Megumi's gaze was steady but not hostile. Just conviction.
The woman studied the amulet for a few more seconds. It was beautiful, delicate, with a smooth texture and dark threads woven with precision. It felt weightless. When she hung it around her neck, it wasn't uncomfortable—quite the opposite.
"…funny. It's light. Too light."
She ran her fingers over it with curiosity.
"It's actually… kind of warm."
Yuta watched in silence. Observing her reaction.
'She felt it. Even without knowing what it is.'
The woman tilted her head slightly.
"I thought it was just some random pendant. But there's something to it."
Megumi kept her tone firm but softened.
"Don't take it off. Okay?"
Her mother nodded, now more serious.
"Okay. If it's important to you… I'll keep it on."
She forced a casual smile.
"Besides, if it's a gift from my son-in-law, I can't disrespect it, right?"
Megumi gave a faint smile, leaning back in her chair. Her plan had worked—her mother now wore an invisible shield, even if she didn't know it.
The dinner went on for a few more minutes. The warmth of the food had faded, but the atmosphere stayed cozy.
Only traces remained on the plates, with a few spoons idly stirring in water glasses.
Megumi's mother stood slowly, picking up the rice dish.
"I'll grab dessert. I made gelatin, but there's also the sweet Megumi learned to make."
Yuta raised an eyebrow.
"I like sweets."
Megumi stood as well.
"You'll like it. I made it. I'll help her bring it."
The two disappeared toward the kitchen. The sound of opening cabinets, a low conversation, and the clink of dishes filled the momentary silence.
Yuta sat alone at the table.
His hand propped up his chin. His gaze traced the wood grain beneath his plate. The calm was genuine—but not absolute.
Then it happened.
A subtle sound. Artificial. Clear, though silent to the outside world.
Ding.
The holographic screen appeared before him, transparent, floating discreetly in his field of vision.
[📜 New Mission Available]
Yuta didn't move.
He just looked.
The words revealed nothing more. No details. No deadline. Just confirmation that the system had stirred again.
'Now?'
His gaze sharpened, but his body stayed still. His expression remained natural. He knew how to hide what he needed to.
Footsteps returned from the kitchen.
Megumi's voice drew closer.
Yuta dismissed the screen with a flick of his eyes.
And he smiled lightly, as if nothing had happened.
The next phase had begun. But the dinner… wasn't over yet.
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