A towel still draped Yuta's shoulders as he stepped out of the bathroom. His wet hair dripped slowly onto his gray t-shirt. Steam from the hot shower lingered in the short hallway of his apartment.
He tossed the towel onto a chair, grabbed his phone from the dresser, and pressed the button.
One notification.
Toknet – Megumi Katō
"You said I could've died from that thing. If that's true… what happens to someone older? Like… my grandma?"
Yuta stood still for a few seconds, reading the message in silence.
'She's talking about the curse.'
The ceiling fan's hum was the only sound in the room.
He took a deep breath. His head still throbbed faintly from the earlier escape, but his fingers moved across the screen.
Yuta:
"Yes. It's possible."
He waited. Three dots appeared briefly, then vanished.
Megumi:
"She lives close. Can you come here? I don't know what to do."
Yuta didn't reply immediately.
He walked to the window and parted the curtain halfway. Night had taken over the street. The city's lights were distant, blurred among streetlights and old facades. Nothing unusual. But he knew… most strange things never showed themselves to ordinary eyes.
'The System hasn't issued a mission. So maybe there's no active threat. But that doesn't mean it's clean.'
He returned to his phone and typed:
Yuta:
"Send me the address. And don't do anything until I get there."
"Just wait."
Three seconds later, a location ping arrived. Megumi had sent it directly via Toknet's map. A house a few blocks away.
Yuta laced his sneakers firmly and grabbed his jacket. Phone still in hand.
'Hopefully it's just residual energy. Something easy to cleanse. I need to level up.'
But the System hadn't promised a reward.
And that, for some reason, made it feel more dangerous.
DING.
The System's faint chime sounded as he touched the doorknob.
---
[JJK System Panel]
[Current User Status]
Name: Yuta Okkotsu
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
Cursed Energy: 25% (Low)
Stamina: Low
Energy Control: Beginner
Vitality: 100/100
Mental State: Stable (Mild Fatigue)
---
[Primary Attributes]
Strength: 5
Agility: 6
Physical Endurance: 4
Spiritual Control: 8
Intellect: 10
---
[Unlocked Abilities]
- Cursed Energy Flow (Controlled) – Beginner Level
Allows maintaining active cursed energy flow for short periods.
Temporary Blade – Level 1
Condenses cursed energy into a blade form for up to 30 seconds.
Bloodlust Aura – Level 1
Emits murderous pressure for intimidation and combat instinct manipulation. Can be activated manually.
---
[System Functions]
- Inventory: (Empty)
- Mission Offers
- Status Check
---
Megumi's House
The low gate creaked as Megumi leaned on it with her forearm. Her backpack was already discarded in her room. She'd changed clothes. Tied her hair back. Her phone was in her hand, screen locked.
She stared at the street ahead, trying to keep her breathing steady.
Thirty minutes had passed since she sent the location.
The night was calm, but something felt off in the air. Streetlights cast elongated shadows between the sidewalk trees. A dog barked in the distance. Cars passed like ghosts with dim headlights.
Megumi fidgeted with her phone, fingers sliding along its edge.
'Will he really come?'
Not that she doubted him. But the silence bred those questions.
She was about to take another step, maybe send another message, when she heard steady footsteps on the asphalt. She turned her head instantly.
Yuta approached with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on her from before he reached the gate. His hair was still damp, suggesting a recent shower. His posture was as always—too calm for the situation.
He stopped in front of her without a word.
Megumi looked away.
"Sorry for calling you. It's just…"
"It's fine."
She nodded, slightly relieved by his quick response.
"It's close. We can walk."
Yuta glanced at the street. Then his eyes returned to her.
"Then let's go."
Megumi opened the gate and started walking unhurriedly. Yuta followed, keeping a few steps behind. Their breathing was the only sound during the walk. Neither started a conversation. Neither forced words.
---
Megumi's Grandmother's House
The kitchen light was on, but the house itself seemed asleep. The pale walls, adorned with old framed photos and faded crocheted cloths, couldn't mask the scent of aged wood. Everything here carried years. The smell of lukewarm tea and silence.
In the living room, the brown armchair sagged under the small frame of Mrs. Katō.
She was covered to her waist with a thin blanket. Her eyes half-closed, but she wasn't sleeping.
The TV flickered with random news channel images, the sound barely audible.
Her thin, time-stained fingers rested on the armchair's arm. And there, almost imperceptible… they moved, slowly, as if stroking the air.
"No need to say anything today."
Her voice was low. Weak. But firm.
She looked to the side, where no one was.
"You were never good with words anyway."
Silence.
Her eyes fixed on that spot, between the room's corner and the curtain swaying lightly in the breeze from the open window.
"I know you're still here."
Her breathing was heavy. But her posture remained dignified. As if, even exhausted, she refused to show weakness to someone—or something—others couldn't see.
"That girl… Megumi… she's been seeing more than she should, hasn't she?"
Nothing answered.
But the grandmother knew. Knew he was there. Sitting, maybe, or leaning against the wall as he used to when alive. The same silence as when he'd watch without interrupting.
She pulled the blanket tighter.
"You should've moved on."
Her eyes welled, but no tears fell.
"I know you stayed for me. But it's been too long. It's getting hard."
She closed her eyes for a few seconds.
"You'll scare her. Megumi doesn't understand these things. She's good, but she's sensitive."
The breeze stirred, the curtain brushing the armchair's arm lightly.
She didn't move.
Just kept talking.
"If you're still here for me… I'm asking. Go. Now's the time."
The silence answered.
The old woman let out a long, weary breath.
"Please."
Clank.
A metallic sound broke the silence.
She opened her eyes. Her brows furrowed slightly. The noise came from outside—the small gate, ajar, swaying gently.
Then, footsteps on the stone path to the entrance.
The grandmother shifted, trying to sit straighter in the armchair. Her eyes locked on the front door.
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