After dinner, Toshihisa Negi set off for the local Curse User organization's base to meet his contact.
Larue returned to his hotel room to contact his international friends scattered across the world, gathering the latest sightings of Ganesh, the "divine curse of Asia" said to be able to "remove all obstacles."
It was reportedly a special grade cursed spirit capable of "assigning concepts" to the targets of its Cursed Technique.
In theory, an ability like that had enormous potential for development, and Dio was genuinely looking forward to it.
As the night deepened, Dio tactfully suggested, "How about we split up for a stroll and meet at the Red Fort later? You two could enjoy a little time alone together."
Suguru Geto waved a hand. "Let's stick together. We've only just arrived. Better to be careful."
And so the three wandered aimlessly along the three-tiered colonnades of Connaught Place.
The circular plaza blazed with lights. Luxury stores stood beside century-old shops, while vendors selling jasmine garlands brushed past young women in saris.
Manami stopped at a stall selling the traditional sweet jalebi-spirals of batter were fried golden in bubbling oil, then lifted out and soaked in syrup, gleaming translucently beneath the lights.
"A serving?" The stallholder was a white-haired old man whose smile revealed three missing teeth.
Suguru Geto nodded. "Just one."
The old man deftly rolled a sheet of paper into a cone, filled it with five or six freshly fried, steaming spirals of jalebi, and handed it over.
Geto took it and passed it to Manami, who cautiously bit into one-
The crisp shell shattered between her teeth, releasing scalding syrup with an almost violently intense sweetness.
"...Too sweet!" she exclaimed softly despite herself, though her eyes crinkled with a smile.
"It might be a little hot. Are you all right?" the old man asked in English.
Smiling, Manami repeated what she had said in English.
Now the old man understood. Beaming, he explained, "Life is too bitter. Sweet things have to be sweet enough to hurt."
Once both of them had tasted it, Dio curiously plucked a jalebi from the paper cone too.
It really was too sweet.
After leaving the plaza, they headed for the Red Fort, a symbol of the Mughal dynasty.
At ten that night, three hours after the fort had closed to tourists, the three slipped silently over the wall.
Only patrolling security guards and their flashlight beams roamed beneath the enormous sandstone buildings.
They were all ordinary people just putting in their hours for a paycheck, and naturally failed to notice the stealthy Sorcerers.
Suguru Geto stood before the Lahori Gate and extended his Cursed Energy perception, moonlight washing his clothes in silver.
"They say a great many human sacrifices were made during its construction in the seventeenth century.
The craftsmen were beheaded to ensure they could never build an identical fort for another ruler. Even now, their resentment hasn't faded."
Once they entered a certain range, Dio stopped as well.
Cursed Spirit Manipulation had marked the cursed spirit from far away, making it impossible to overlook.
A sickly-sweet scent of blood hung in the air-not fresh blood, but an old, rusty smell that had seeped into the cracks between the stones.
Faint sobbing drifted from the depths of the entrance hall.
"At this level-it should be a Grade 2 Cursed Spirit.
They form from the resentment of construction workers. Variants appear in ancient buildings all over the world, and they usually attack anyone who enters indiscriminately.
But this one in the Red Fort... seems a little different."
They rounded a corner and saw it: a humanoid shape made of rubble and mud, with broken glazed tiles embedded in its eye sockets, stroking the inscriptions on the wall with its damaged fingers.
"Is it... repairing the building?" Dio raised an eyebrow.
"More precisely, it's repairing its 'memories.'"
Suguru Geto offered his analysis.
"A cursed spirit's actions often reflect the obsession that created it.
For example, some grade 4 cursed spirits born from people who worked themselves to death will complain endlessly about their work.
And these craftsmen were still thinking about their unfinished work when they died."
"The local Sorcerers actually let it stay here all this time... That's capitalism for you." Dio's opinion of the Indian Jujutsu Society plummeted.
Suguru Geto raised his hand and drew it toward him from a distance. The wretched craftsman cursed spirit became a black cursed spirit orb and dropped into his palm.
"Elephant God is yours anyway, so can I have all these appetizers along the way?"
"Of course. No problem."
It was nearly midnight when they left the Red Fort, yet a lit tea stall had suddenly appeared on the curb outside.
An old man tended a small kerosene stove, with thick masala chai simmering in an aluminum pot.
That tea stall definitely hadn't been there before they sneaked inside.
In short, it was extremely strange.
"Chai, garam chai-tea, hot tea," the old man called, drawing out the words.
"Is this some kind of welcoming ceremony from the local Jujutsu Society?" Dio couldn't help quipping.
"I'll go ask." Suguru Geto stepped forward, opened his translation app, and asked slowly, enunciating each word, "Sir, why are you still running your stall so late?"
"The stones of the Red Fort cry at night," the old man said unhurriedly in English. "Those who can't sleep come to me for tea. Drink a cup, and you won't hear those sounds anymore."
"...Are you a Sorcerer guarding this place? Who do you represent?" Geto picked up a cup and poured the tea into the mouth of a lucky cursed spirit he casually summoned.
"A Sorcerer? No, nobody sent me. I came of my own accord."
The old man added a lump of coal to the little kerosene stove. The flames leaped higher, illuminating his deeply wrinkled face.
"My grandfather's grandfather was a stonemason here.
On the day the fort was finished, the king asked the craftsmen, 'Could you build anything more beautiful than this?' The craftsmen answered, 'Yes.'
Then... they were buried alive inside the walls."
His voice was level, as though he were telling someone else's story.
"But their hands still remember how to lay stone.
So every year, this fort grows new patterns all by itself, as though it were dreaming."
"He... he doesn't have a shadow."
Manami suddenly lowered her voice, pointing discreetly at the old man's feet-the kerosene lamp stretched their shadows long across the ground, but beneath the low stool where he sat, there was nothing.
"Should we secretly take a photo to check?" she whispered.
"No need." Suguru Geto shook his head slightly.
"He isn't a cursed spirit. Otherwise, Cursed Spirit Manipulation would have sensed him.
Perhaps after a person dies... without becoming a cursed spirit or completely leaving this world, some kind of 'echo' remains."
He paused, then added, "Just as stones remember warmth, some places remember people."
When they left the tea stall, Geto placed three times the price of the tea on the shabby little wooden table.
The old man neither refused nor thanked him. He simply raised his cloudy eyes, gazed at the dark outline of the Red Fort, and murmured in Hindi:
"May Elephant God remove every obstacle from your path."
"Thank you. Here's hoping your blessing comes true." Dio pressed his palms together with a convincing little gesture and gave them a slight bob.
The three reached the end of the street and looked back at the Red Fort in the darkness.
The wind swept through the deserted street, carrying that blessing softly away.
Before you continue