"..."
"What?" he muttered as he looked around.
The ground felt cold beneath him. He glanced around. He was somewhere between houses, maybe in an alley.
"Is this heaven?" he thought.
Only moments ago, he remembered standing on the roof of his house. A meteor fell from the sky, growing larger and larger as it rushed toward him. It struck him, and everything went blank.
He slowly stood up and walked toward the light at the end of the alley.
Just before stepping out, he stopped.
A small puddle of water lay on the ground, likely left behind by rain. That was not the problem.
What stared back at him was.
Long silver hair. Silver eyelashes. Silver eyebrows. Red eyes. A clear, beautiful face.
And what stood out most were two large, gnarled horns protruding from his forehead. They were dark charcoal, almost obsidian, with a rough, rock-like texture veined with gold.
His complexion was unnaturally pale, like alabaster or porcelain.
A jagged line of gold ran down the left side of his face, starting from the horn, passing through the eye, and ending at the jawline. It looked like a scar filled with molten gold.
Faint, pearlescent scales shimmered along his right cheek and neck.
He had pointed, elf-like ears.
"..."
"HEIN?"
He slowly raised his hands and grabbed the horns, trying to confirm what he was seeing.
"HEINNNNNNNN???"
He fell onto his backside from the shock.
His breathing turned uneven as the realization hit him. It was not just his face or body that had changed. Even his voice sounded different now — deeper, heavier, carrying a strange weight that did not feel human.
He sat there on the cold ground, staring at his hands, trying to make sense of what was happening.
"What… is going on…?"
Silence answered him.
Then —
A faint sound echoed inside his head.
Not heard by his ears. Felt.
Cold. Mechanical.
[Demon Practical System — Awakening…]
His body froze.
Lines of dim Yellow light flickered across his vision like cracks forming in glass.
[Host Status Confirmed.]
[Previous Life — Terminated.]
[Cause of Death: Extraterrestrial Impact.]
He swallowed hard.
"…I died?"
The voice did not pause.
[Reincarnation Successful.]
[New Race Assigned: DEMON.]
"No… wait…"
[Primary World Assigned: Jujutsu Kaisen.]
His thoughts stopped.
Silence filled the alley.
Jujutsu… Kaisen?
Sorcerers. Curses. Death around every corner.
[Demon Practical System Activated.]
The yellow light faded into sharp lines of text floating before his eyes.
He sat frozen, staring at them.
More words appeared.
[Identity Update Complete.]
[New Designation: Daemon.]
"…Daemon…?" he whispered.
[Race: Demon.]
Another window opened.
[System Awakening Gift Issued.]
Light gathered in front of him, condensing slowly into shape.
Metal formed piece by piece until a weapon dropped onto the ground with a dull clink.
A polearm.
He stared at it.
"…That's it?"
No response.
He picked it up carefully. It felt solid. Slightly heavy, but manageable.
New text appeared.
[Mission Assigned.]
[Objective: Secure Safe Operating Base.]
[Description: Locate a quiet, defensible location suitable for concealment and survival.]
[Warning: Host is currently vulnerable to detection by sorcerers and hostile entities.]
[Reward: To Be Determined.]
[Failure Consequence: Increased mortality probability.]
He exhaled slowly.
"That's… very helpful," he muttered dryly.
The system gave no reply.
He stared at the polearm for a moment longer, then lifted his gaze back to the puddle.
"Safe operating base…" he muttered under his breath.
Yeah. Easy to say.
He could not just walk out into the street like this. Horns. Red eyes. Pale skin. He looked like a walking disaster.
His thoughts tangled together.
Maybe hide during the day. Move at night. Find abandoned buildings. Shrines? No. Too obvious. Sewers? Absolutely not.
As he ran through ideas, a faint sound broke the silence behind him.
Footsteps.
He froze.
Three silhouettes stretched along the ground as light from the street reached into the alley.
"…There," one voice said. "See? I told you someone was here."
He turned slowly, grip tightening on the polearm.
Three girls stood at the entrance of the alley, dressed in high school uniforms. Bags slung over their shoulders. One held a drink cup. Another chewed on something absentmindedly.
They blinked at him.
He stared back.
Silence.
"What are you doing in here, mister?" one asked, tilting her head.
He did not answer.
They… were not screaming.
Not running.
Not even startled.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"…You're not… scared to see me?" he asked slowly.
The three girls exchanged confused looks.
"…Why would we be?" the shortest one said, raising an eyebrow.
Another stepped forward, eyes shining with curiosity rather than fear.
"Whoa," she said, leaning closer. "Your cosplay is insane."
"…Cosplay?" he repeated.
"Yeah," she said, casually circling him. "Demon character, right? Is it from an anime? Or a game? Wait — are you doing a photoshoot or something?"
He opened his mouth, then stopped.
The third girl leaned in even closer, studying his ears.
"Seriously, how did you do these? They look real. Prosthetics? Surgery? The details are crazy."
He blinked slowly.
They really thought this was fake.
Relief mixed with confusion inside his chest.
Before he could respond, one of them waved her hand dismissively.
"Anyway, sorry — we didn't mean to interrupt. We just came to feed the kittens."
They moved past him without hesitation, treating him like nothing more than a guy in elaborate costume.
Soft mewling came from behind a pile of garbage bags. One girl crouched and gently pulled out a small bottle of milk. Tiny kittens peeked out from a torn cardboard box, their eyes barely open.
"Here you go… easy…" she murmured, feeding them with careful hands.
Daemon watched in silence.
"So," the tall girl said suddenly, turning toward him with a bright grin, "what's your name, cosplay guy?"
He hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"…Daemon."
"Daemon?" she repeated, nodding approvingly. "Nice. Very on-brand."
The shortest girl elbowed her friend.
"Ask for his social."
"I was about to!"
She instantly pulled out her phone and stepped closer.
"Do you have Insta? Or Line? You'd blow up online with this look."
Another girl joined in with a laugh.
"Yeah, seriously. You're really handsome too, so that helps."
They started lightly arguing over who got to follow him first.
He stood there, stunned.
Minutes ago, he thought he was dead.
Now three high school girls debated his social media while bottle-feeding kittens in an alley.
"…I don't have one," he said carefully.
All three froze.
"You don't have social media?" they said at the same time.
He shook his head.
"I don't use social media," he said calmly.
The three stared at him like he had just confessed to a crime.
"That's… actually insane," the tall one said.
"Are you serious?" the shortest added. "Not even one account?"
He hesitated briefly, then gave a small shrug.
"I used to," he said. "Just stopped."
They leaned closer immediately.
"Why?" one asked.
He paused, choosing something simple. Something ordinary.
"…Too much trouble," he said quietly. "I deleted everything a while back. Needed a break."
They nodded slowly, accepting the explanation.
"Honestly, that sounds kind of peaceful," one said.
"Yeah, until you need Google Maps," another added with a laugh.
He allowed a faint smile, then shifted the conversation before they could ask too many questions.
"…Actually," he said, voice calm but careful, "can I ask you something?"
"Hmm?" the tall girl tilted her head.
He hesitated just enough to make it feel natural.
"I'm looking for somewhere quiet," he said. "Someplace I could stay for a while. I don't really have money right now, so… maybe somewhere abandoned? Or unused."
The girls exchanged looks.
"Abandoned?" the shortest one repeated. "That sounds kinda sketchy."
"Well, look at him," another said, gesturing lightly at his horns and outfit. "Sketchy fits the aesthetic."
They laughed.
He waited silently.
The tall girl crossed her arms, thinking.
"There is a place," she said slowly. "Old building near the end of the street. Used to be a small office or something. Nobody goes there now."
"But it's creepy," another added quickly. "Like, seriously creepy."
"And probably dirty," the shortest one said.
"That's fine," he replied calmly. "I just need somewhere quiet."
He turned slightly and reached down, picking up the polearm from where it rested against the wall.
The metal caught the light as he lifted it.
The girls immediately reacted.
"Whoa — wait!" the shortest one said, stepping closer. "Is that real?"
"That looks heavy," another added, eyes wide. "You weren't carrying that earlier… right?"
He paused for a second.
Lying came easier now.
"…It's a prop," he said smoothly. "Custom-made."
They leaned in, fascinated.
"No way," the tall girl said. "The detail is insane."
He nodded slightly, keeping his expression neutral.
"Cost me around two thousand dollars," he added casually. "Imported from the US. Took months to arrive."
Their jaws dropped.
"Two thousand?!"
"For a cosplay weapon??"
He gave a small shrug, pretending embarrassment.
"I got too invested in the character."
They immediately believed him.
"That makes sense actually," one said. "Hardcore cosplayers do crazy stuff."
"Still… can I touch it?" the shortest asked.
He hesitated just long enough to feel real.
"…Careful," he said, tilting the shaft toward her.
She grabbed it with both hands — then nearly dropped it.
"Whoa! It's heavy!"
"I told you," he said calmly.
They laughed, handing it back to him.
"Okay, follow us," the tall girl said, turning toward the street. "We'll show you the place."
They began walking together, their chatter filling the quiet evening air.
Daemon stayed slightly behind, watching everything carefully.
Streetlights flickered overhead. Cars passed at a distance. Normal life continued like nothing was strange.
But inside him, tension remained.
He adjusted his grip on the polearm as they turned down a narrower road.
"There," the tall girl said after a minute, pointing ahead.
An old building stood at the end of the street.
Faded walls.
Broken windows.
A rusted fence leaning sideways.
Definitely abandoned.
As he stepped closer, something changed.
The air felt… different.
He slowed.
"…What's wrong?" one of the girls asked.
He didn't answer right away.
It wasn't a smell.
Not a sound.
Just a feeling.
Like being alone in a house at night and watching a horror movie and suddenly felling like someone if watching you from a dark corner.
"…Thank you," he said quietly.
The girls waved casually.
"Don't get murdered in there, okay?" one joked.
He watched them walk away.
Then turned back toward the building.
The strange feeling grew stronger with each step.