Impossible!
This is absolutely impossible!
Inspector Megure slammed the table, angrily rejecting Takagi Wataru's speculation like a startled bird.
Evil spirits?
Curses?
Were such things really something that could be placed on the table and acknowledged in reality?
As a police captain—and a police captain in Tokyo—Inspector Megure was already someone whose words could reach the ears of higher authorities.
If there truly existed matters that lay outside the scientific worldview, it was impossible for him to be completely ignorant of them.
The higher-ups would never allow a fool who knew nothing to sit in the position of Tokyo police captain.
Similarly.
After the materials had been submitted and he had washed up, Kudo Shinichi racked his brains.
He admitted that he had indeed been frightened by the oppressive atmosphere earlier.
But as a detective who firmly believed that everything in reality could be explained by science, Kudo Shinichi still believed that Seiichiro's death had been caused by some unknown murder method.
And Kawaguchi Watari.
Kudo Shinichi had personally seen the crime scene.
Kawaguchi Watari, who had been inside a closed detention facility, had died in exactly the same way as Seiichiro.
This was truly…
...
...
A perfect opening.
In an old house in Nakano District, Tokyo—
In places that humans could not perceive with the naked eye, hideous and terrifying curses crowded the room densely.
Mizunotsuki Seiren was raising Gu.
He wanted to cultivate a true boss-level existence, one that could support both the opening act and the final curtain.
What was happening now was merely a greeting to the world.
With lowered eyes, he watched as the cluster of curses eagerly devoured a handful of their weaker kin.
It was still insufficient.
True Gu refinement required desperate, self-destructive slaughter—not this gentle consumption.
But it was enough for now.
If he truly created a fully aggressive curse, he feared that Kudo Shinichi would flip the board entirely.
That would be troublesome.
Mortals could neither see nor touch curses.
With these two facts alone, the Tokyo government was already at a complete disadvantage.
As for Yotsuya Miko—
In a few more days, the fish would bite.
...
...
The next morning, in the Shitamachi district.
Here they were again…
Mitsue Takeda watched the two young women curiously.
Yotsuya Miko and Yurikawa Hana.
Yurikawa Hana was merely accompanying her.
But Yotsuya Miko was different.
These two had been coming to Shitamachi for several days already.
Not sightseeing.
Not shopping.
They were searching.
They frequented mysterious little shops—
Including Mitsue Takeda's own psychic store.
Of course.
Mitsue Takeda claimed to be a psychic—the so-called "Shitamachi Goddess."
In truth, she was no different from her peers.
They all made a living through counseling… and gentle deception.
Yes.
Mitsue Takeda was a liar.
But she was a conscientious one.
She knew that young women liked pleasant words, so she always spoke of "happy marriages," "good fortune," and "harmonious families."
Occasionally, she would act mysterious, frighten her customers slightly, and then recommend a few exorcism packages.
A standard routine.
She approached them.
Her hunched posture and wrinkled face carried an air of warmth.
This often left a good first impression.
But when she looked at Yotsuya Miko—
Her smile froze internally.
Something was wrong.
Yotsuya Miko looked exhausted.
As if she hadn't slept properly for a long time.
A faint dark mark lingered on her forehead.
In nearly every religious text, this was an ominous sign.
Her eyes were hollow.
Her spirit thin.
As though something unseen had been disturbing her.
And she had been visiting psychic shops every day after school.
...
Could it be—
No.
Impossible.
Mitsue Takeda laughed softly at herself, followed by a heavy sigh.
How could she not know?
There was no mysticism in this world.
That title—Shitamachi Goddess—had always been self-invented.
Yet in her youth, she had truly studied temples and doctrine.
She had once been a respected elder.
And now—
This girl's condition matched the scriptures too perfectly.
Like veins appearing clearly under the skin—too textbook to ignore.
She shook her head.
Suppressing the ache in her chest.
"Liar."
That word had followed her for decades.
It had crushed her faith.
She abandoned her inheritance.
Her family.
Her beliefs.
The phrase "There is no mysticism in this world" had defeated her completely.
So she retreated.
And opened this shabby little shop.
How ridiculous.
If mysticism truly didn't exist—
Then what had her entire life been?
She laughed bitterly.
Age made people nostalgic.
She coughed, patted her back, and waved warmly.
"Girls, what are you looking for?"
"A bracelet? Then you've come at the perfect time. I just so happen to have a treasure here."
She quickly produced a delicately decorated box.
Girls loved this sort of thing.
Yotsuya Miko had felt watched these past few days.
Ever since the incident at the bus stop.
So Yurikawa Hana had dragged her here—for peace of mind.
Miko slipped the beads onto her wrist.
Mitsue Takeda was about to say something reassuring—
Bang!!
The bead shattered.
Silence.
Her pupils dilated.
Broken?
Her breathing grew heavy.
A fire ignited in her eyes.
Decades of belief.
Of denial.
Of self-deception—
She grabbed Yotsuya Miko's wrist.
Broken.
It had truly—
Broken.
....
.....
.....
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