Upon fully waking, Yamasaki felt restless and submerged in his deepest longings.
Slowly, he stretched to the edge of the bed, his mind clouded by the lingering weight of a disturbing dream. Determined to take his medication, he sat up, his eyes drifting with uncertainty—questioning whether everything around him was just an illusion crafted by his own mind, one that seemed to give in more and more to the effects of his disorder.
"This isn't me…" he whispered, gathering three pills with trembling hands before rising and heading toward the kitchen.
The wind howled violently against the apartment windows.
Still half-dazed, even though two hours had passed since he awoke, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water, nearly spilling it.
Gulp. Swallowing the medication, he emptied the glass in one swift motion.
When done, he wiped his lips with his arm. His wrists and neck bore purple bruises—silent witnesses and victims of the delirium that plagued his sleep. His gaze was heavy, like an iron curtain, and his dry mouth ached for moisture, making him resemble a zombie.
As he placed the glass in the sink, an unsettling feeling washed over him; a shiver coursed through his body, followed by a sharp pain stabbing at his head.
He turned and pressed his hand to his face, trying to distract his thoughts, while gripping the cold marble counter that separated the living room from the kitchen. His eyes, peeking through his fingers, fell once again on the check.
Damn it… Still no smartphone!
Am I addicted to this crap? The thought surged through his mind like a compulsion, even though he had no real desire to leave home.
Without having coffee or eating anything, he stormed out, leaving behind the ringing phone—now echoing unanswered through the apartment. He was set, in his own way, on cashing the check and finally buying the long-awaited device.
He sped down Kiseki Avenue, heading toward the PBA (People's Bank of Aija), located halfway between his district and the bustling Sangai shopping street. His car nearly hit the speed limit. He sliced through the asphalt until finally pulling over, stepping out with cash in hand and a scowl on his face.
Withdrawal fees… fees for who knows what. What the hell do those imperial bastards even do with all this money?
Pushing on, he reached his destination, guided by the last bits of visual memory that still served him well. Parking in front of the store, he noticed a car just like his already stationed there.
Another exorcist down on their luck? Whatever…
As he stepped out, light suddenly struck his eyes—a blinding, radiant flash, like someone had turned on a flashlight in pitch darkness.
He shielded his face with his hand, but by now, such occurrences no longer startled him. Each passing day, he felt more acquainted with the entity residing inside him than with the human he once was.
"…What a damn curse," he muttered, taking a few steps until he found shade. The tension in his body barely eased before irritation took hold again.
Without realizing it, he stood before the store. As he lowered his hand, a wave of déjà vu surged through him—triggered by the façade in shades of blue and gray. The same colors he'd seen about a year ago. In the window display, the latest models were front and center.
Damn it. These companies just keep squeezing every coin out of me. And that light only made it worse…
Rushing inside, he wove through the demo tables until he finally spotted the model he'd already decided on.
Costing 1,200 yen—the same as his last one—he yanked it out from the tangled display wires without a second thought. The store staff, already familiar with his behavior, barely reacted. But someone in front of him found the scene quite unusual.
"Incredible! I had no idea barbarians still walked among us," teased a beautiful redheaded girl.
Her fiery hair swayed as she tossed it back with a casual flick of her hand, and her amber eyes looked sweetly at the exorcist. Her smile radiated like the rising sun, while he stood awkward and flustered before her confident presence.
If she was the brightest summer day, he was the harshest of winters.
"Huh!? Barbarian? Clown…" he muttered, letting out a deep sigh before pulling the money from his pocket and fixing his eyes on one of the guys behind the counter. "Here. Take it, kid…" he added, acting like a total jerk in her eyes.
The clerk, confused, pointed at himself while Yamasaki nodded, his patience clearly wearing thin, his expression betraying rising irritation.
This is why I hate leaving home…
"Besides being a barbarian, he's kind of an idiot too. Now I understand why we have such a bad reputation…" the girl said, then snapped her fingers and turned slightly, tossing her hair back with a playful sway of her hips. "But who am I to say, right? A clown, apparently!" she said, throwing a glance at the store clerk organizing phones on the table.
Her words seemed to puzzle him, and once again, his gaze shifted back to her.
"We? Don't tell me… You're an exorcist?" he said, eyeing her from head to toe. She wore a pleated black skirt below the knees, a red wool sweater, and held a purse in her manicured red-nailed hands—one that looked more expensive than his car. And dressed like that?
"What is it, huh?" she asked, giving him a sidelong glance before locking eyes again. "Sorry, I don't usually walk around in uniform. Does that offend you, sir?" she teased, her smile never leaving her face.
He replied only with a strained, clearly unamused smile. His fists were clenched tight, nearly crushing the smartphone in his hand.
"You should consider shutting up…"
"And you, ever thought about wearing a muzzle?" she shot back sarcastically, her pink lips glowing like Sakura petals.
Perplexity washed over the customers and employees around them, stunned by the bizarre argument unfolding before their eyes.
"All right, all right…" he murmured, raising his eyebrows with a long sigh before turning to the counter. "Ring this up, will you? Fast."
"Of course, sir…" replied the clerk, placing the phone in a box and then in a paper bag with the store's logo. "That'll be 1,200 yen. How would you like to pay?"
He shrugged and stared at the young man, aware of the redhead watching him intently through the reflection on the counter's surface.
"Cash," he said, opening his leather wallet, pulling out two 1,000-yen bills, and then grabbing the bag, ready to leave. "Keep the change," he added, catching the clerk off guard enough to spark a sheepish smile.
Without hesitation, he strode out with firm steps, his hair waving behind him in undulating motion—all of it playing out before the caramel-colored eyes of the girl.
A chill ran down her spine, and suddenly, she snapped out of her daze. Nervously, she laughed at the scene, Yamasaki's footsteps echoing like the gallop of a horse in her ears.
The steps lingered in her mind until, with a smooth motion, she moved closer and called out before he could leave:
"Oh, grumpy one—what's your name?"
"Huh? Did you just call me—what?" he said, noticing the sparkle in her eyes.
"Don't stall!"
She nodded quickly, clutching her purse, clearly eager.
"Yamasaki Yami… Happy now?" he barked before storming out, slamming the glass door so hard it nearly shattered.
Left speechless, she whispered to herself:
"Not even gonna ask for mine? Ugh…"
His only reply was the hurried rhythm of his steps.
That cursed boy!
From the shop window, she watched as he rushed into his car. Before even pulling out, he looked her way with a half-annoyed glare.
Bitter as coffee!
Yet, something about his surly nature had charmed her, as if the rough edges of his personality sparked an irresistible curiosity inside her.
Women, huh…
The roar of his car's engine sounded like a lion's growl—something Masaru Jigoku was watching on his smartphone inside the elevator. Alongside "egghead," they were descending to the twenty-second floor, the first of many that led to the quarters used by exorcists in need of shelter.
The elevator doors opened, revealing a corridor as white as a psych ward, lined with light wooden doors. Welcome to the place most hated by the janitors.
"Go on! I'll meet you at the exit, cool?" Masaru said, barely looking up from his animal documentary.
"Right…" came the wavering voice of his companion, stepping forward with a hint of anxiety.
"Romero…" he whispered as the metallic doors closed behind him.
Masaru offered one last cheeky grin:
"Good luck in there, egghead!"