(POV Mei Mei)
"Because I was the one who killed that thing," Kenji said with confidence.
I fell silent at once. Not because I was completely shocked, but because of the sheer audacity of the statement. This boy was genuinely irritating.
Even the way Kenji said it didn't sound arrogant or boastful. It was simple, plain—like he was merely stating an obvious fact that didn't warrant debate.
"Is that so?" I asked quietly. My voice dropped an octave, turning cold and wary. "Then… why can't I sense any Cursed Energy from you?"
"Well, about that…" Kenji said, smiling.
For some reason, that small smile made me want to smack the boy on the head. It wasn't an innocent smile, but it wasn't sly either—more like the smile of a boy who knew he was holding a trump card, and was enjoying the fact that his opponent hadn't realized it yet. "I'll answer. But on one condition."
I clicked my tongue inwardly. Every instinct I had told me this was a bad idea, but my curiosity crushed all those warnings. In the end, I asked, "Fine. What's the condition?"
"You answer all my questions honestly," Kenji said with a thin smile. "But if you ask me something, I'll answer. And if there's something I don't want to answer, I won't. Deal?"
I weighed it for a moment. Logically, this was ridiculous—I was negotiating with a child in the middle of a forest. But curiosity won in the end.
I truly wanted to know who this irritating boy was, and where that calmness of his came from. "Alright."
Kenji immediately fired off a barrage of questions. His voice remained calm despite how dense and sharp the questions were. "Who are you? Are you an Onmyōji? How many Grades are there? Why were you looking for that thing? Cursed Spirits are dangerous, right?"
I looked at Kenji for a moment, realizing that he wasn't playing around. Then I answered right away, my voice steady again, professional—the voice I usually used when dealing with clients.
"My name is Mei Mei. You could say I'm an Onmyōji, but the proper term is Jujutsu Sorcerer. There are five Grades—Grade 4, 3, 2, 1, and Special Grade."
I shot Kenji a sharp glance, letting my words sink in, making sure he understood their weight. "And yes. Cursed Spirits are extremely dangerous. To them… humans are prey."
"Interesting…" Kenji said calmly—far too calmly for someone who had just been on the brink of death. His tone was almost flat, devoid of fear, without the slightest trace of ragged breathing, without the lingering panic that usually clings to people who have narrowly escaped dying.
And that was precisely why his voice felt wrong to me—like water that was too still on the surface, even though I knew something deep and unseen lurked beneath.
The way Kenji spoke made me fall silent without realizing it. The reaction came on its own, as if my instincts were forcing me to stop and reassess the situation.
My eyes traced Kenji's face more cautiously now, from the still-tense line of his jaw to eyes that were far too clear for a boy his age.
I tried to catch even the smallest crack—a slip of emotion, hidden nervousness, a lie that stumbled between breaths. But all I found was a composure no child his age should possess in a situation like this, a calm that felt… wrong.
"So now tell me," I finally said, breaking the silence that had begun to weigh heavily between us. My voice came out sharper than I intended, the ends of my words like thin blades slipping out because my thoughts were already steeped in suspicion. "How did you end up here? Who are you really? And did you truly kill that Cursed Spirit?"
My gaze never left Kenji. I watched every tiny movement—the blink of his eyes that seemed just a fraction too slow, the almost inaudible shifts in his breathing, even the way his shoulders rose and fell with a rhythm that was far too steady.
There were no signs of someone who had just fought desperately for their life. No trembling, no loss of balance. Nothing at all. That absence only deepened my unease.
"How did you do it? Why can't I sense any Cursed Energy from you at all?" I didn't give him a moment to breathe. My words spilled out rapidly, overlapping one another, as if I were afraid that the instant I stopped talking, Kenji would disappear or retreat behind that silence. "Every human has Cursed Energy, no matter how small. That's why I'm curious—how could you defeat that Cursed Spirit if I can't sense even the slightest trace of Cursed Energy from you?"
Kenji didn't answer right away. He simply stood there, his posture upright but not stiff, as though he were weighing whether his story was something that deserved to be spoken at all.
A long pause hung in the air, filled only by the sound of wind slipping through the trees and the soft rustle of leaves brushing against one another. The silence felt deliberate—not because Kenji was confused, but because he was choosing not to speak.
Then, slowly, the corner of Kenji's lips lifted into a thin smile—a smile that was hard to read. It didn't reach his eyes, stopping short and lingering on his face like a fragile layer concealing something beneath.
It wasn't the smile of someone boasting, but it wasn't the smile of someone being completely honest either. There was something held back behind it, something Kenji wasn't ready to reveal in full, and that realization sent a faint chill crawling up my spine.
"As I already said," Kenji finally spoke. His voice remained calm and steady, as if my questions hadn't pressured or unsettled him in the slightest. "My name is Kenji."
Kenji gave a light shrug. The small motion looked almost casual—too casual—as if what he was about to tell me was nothing more than a trivial incident, not an experience that had nearly cost him his life, not an encounter with a cursed creature that could overwhelm even an adult sorcerer who was still a beginner.
That attitude made it even harder for me to decide whether Kenji was simply naïve… or hiding something far more dangerous beneath the surface.
"I often play in this forest. It's quiet, there's no one around, so it's comfortable." Kenji's gaze drifted briefly toward the surrounding trees. Leaves brushed against one another in the wind, sunlight filtering through gaps in the branches and casting thin shadows across his face, as though he were truly returning to that moment. "I didn't expect to run into that strange dog-shaped creature."
Kenji's tone shifted slightly. Not dramatically, not enough to tremble, but enough for me to notice.
There was a brief pause between his words, a subtle weight at the end of his sentences—residual tension that hadn't fully faded, like a wound that had closed but still ached when touched.
"I was terrified. So I ran, deeper and deeper into the forest." Kenji drew a short breath, his chest rising and falling unevenly, as if his body still remembered the exhaustion of that moment. "I was almost out of breath, my lungs felt like they were burning. My whole body hurt, like I was being struck from the inside. My legs felt heavy, every step like it was sticking to the ground. My head was spinning, my vision swimming. At that moment, I really thought I was going to die."
Kenji looked down at his own hands. His fingers spread, then slowly curled, trembling faintly—whether from the cold air slipping between the trees or from the lingering tension that hadn't fully eased from that memory, I couldn't tell.
The skin on the back of his hands looked pale, faint veins visible as he tensed his fingers.
I saw Kenji slowly clench his hand, as if gathering something invisible, then release it again.
The motion repeated once more, hesitant, as though he were confirming that it was truly over—that his body was still intact, and that the world hadn't collapsed right in front of him.
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