Winning him over! A dangerous guy!

The room fell silent for a moment.

Manami Suda's expression shifted from confusion to something deeper.

Wariness and concern mingled, flickering faintly in her eyes. "...That bounty hunter?"

"That's him."

"Lord Suguru Geto," Manami Suda lowered her voice a little.

"You should know as well that that man... has the strength to easily destroy a special grade cursed spirit. He's every bit as strong as Satoru Gojo..."

"He's too dangerous."

"Yes, I know." Suguru Geto's tone remained as bland as ever.

"Then why take the initiative to draw him here?" Manami Suda leaned forward slightly.

"If he decides to attack the Time Vessel Association..."

"He won't," Suguru Geto interrupted her, his tone certain.

"How can you be sure?"

Suguru Geto lifted his gaze from his teacup and looked out into the night beyond the window.

He did not answer immediately. Only after several seconds of silence did he speak. "I've met him."

Manami Suda froze. "...When?"

"A while ago. When he was dealing with that special grade at the hospital, I was watching from across the street."

"Did he see you?"

"He did." At this, the corners of Suguru Geto's lips suddenly curved upward.

"From across the street, he stopped and glanced at me."

"Then, without coming after me or attacking, he simply looked at me and left."

Manami Suda did not immediately understand the significance of this information.

Seemingly seeing through her confusion, Suguru Geto added another sentence.

"If he really were the sort of bounty hunter who cared about nothing but money, he should know very well how much the head of the Time Vessel Association's leader is worth."

"But he didn't do it."

"...Then what are you suggesting?"

"I want to talk to him." Suguru Geto rose from his chair and walked to the window, gazing at the outline of the old pine tree in the courtyard.

"See if I can bring him over to this side."

Manami Suda's expression suddenly became peculiar.

She opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, held back for a moment, then finally failed to suppress it. "Lord Suguru Geto... are you serious?"

"What's wrong?"

"But that man is..." Manami Suda shook her head, as though digesting the weight of the idea.

"That man is a monster, a monster who can easily destroy a special grade. You want to recruit him?"

Suguru Geto turned to look at her, the light tracing soft contours across his face.

"What's wrong with monsters?"

His voice was very soft.

"Aren't we monsters too?"

"As long as they're jujutsu sorcerers, they're one of us..."

Manami Suda fell silent for a moment, then slowly leaned back into the sofa and picked up the cup of tea that had gone completely cold.

"...You're always like this."

Suguru Geto did not deny it. He merely smiled.

Tokyo, a few days later.

The car came to a stop at the roadside outside the mall. Wangchuan pushed open the door, hopped out, and looked up at the building.

The five-story mall looked fairly new, but roller shutters covered all its windows.

Police tape cordoned off the entrance.

Ijichi got out of the driver's seat as well, holding a folder.

He quickly walked around to Wangchuan's side.

"I didn't expect... that the higher-ups would send you to partner with me this time, Ijichi."

Wangchuan tilted his head to glance at him, his tone carrying a little surprise, though not much.

Ijichi gave a wry smile and opened the folder, his fingertips brushing along the edges of the papers.

"Heh... the higher-ups said I get along fairly well with both you and Mr. Gojo, so they told me to assist you."

His expression barely changed as he spoke, but inwardly, he was already sighing.

Of course he knew the real reason.

Every one of those people at Jujutsu Headquarters got a headache at the mention of Satoru Gojo, and the mention of Wangchuan made their scalps prickle even more.

Both men were notorious for disregarding the rules.

And Ijichi... Ijichi was one of the few people who could survive in front of those two and still get a mission briefing into their hands.

And so he had become the designated specialist for dealing with difficult jujutsu sorcerers.

Wangchuan knew nothing of these twists and turns in Ijichi's mind, nor could he be bothered to guess.

He raised a hand and waved at Ijichi. "All right, I'm going in. Wait here."

"Huh? Mr. Wangchuan!"

Ijichi hurriedly opened the folder. "I still need to explain this cursed spirit's situation to you..."

But before he could finish, Wangchuan had already turned and started toward the mall entrance.

His pace was neither fast nor slow, and the wind lifted a corner of his shirt hem. From behind, he looked as casual as someone heading to a convenience store for a bottle of water.

Ijichi stood where he was, holding up the folder.

His mouth still open, he froze for two seconds, then closed the folder and let out a long sigh.

"...Sigh. Mr. Wangchuan is just like Mr. Gojo."

Neither listened to briefings.

Both charged straight inside.

Both left their support staff standing out in the wind by the entrance.

Ijichi tucked the folder under his arm, formed a hand sign, and lowered his eyelids.

"Born from darkness, darker than darkness, purify every trace of tainted cursed residue."

A black curtain slowly rose, enclosing the mall and a small portion of the surrounding area.

Once he had finished, he found a fire hydrant by the road to sit on, took out his phone, and checked the time.

The last time Wangchuan had dealt with that special grade cursed spirit, the whole thing had taken less than five minutes.

He decided to bet on ten minutes this time.

The mall's interior was larger than it looked from outside.

The first floor was a sales area. Shelves lay toppled every which way, and merchandise littered the floor. A few emergency lights were still on, casting a cold, pallid glow that threw patches of overlapping shadows across the empty space.

The smell of dust hung in the air, along with a faint, indescribable sour stench.

Wangchuan walked around a fallen checkout counter and headed toward the escalator.

The escalator had stopped. He stepped onto it, his footsteps echoing through the empty mall as he walked upward, floor by floor.

At a corner on the second floor, he paused.

Wangchuan stood at the second-floor corner and fanned his fingers in front of his nose.

"...Come out."

"I smelled that sour stink on you the moment I came in."

The air went still for two seconds.

Then a heavy, wet sound came from deep within the mall.

That thing shuffled out of the shadows in the depths of the second floor.

Wangchuan looked up as it slowly approached, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

It was a bloated giant made from countless scraps of kitchen waste, rotten ingredients, and greasy dishcloths.

Roughly three stories tall, its body was covered in spoiled vegetable leaves, moldy grains of rice, dried sauce, and lumps of fat whose original color was impossible to make out.

It looked as though someone had poured an entire year's worth of slop buckets into a giant-shaped mold, then packed it down hard.

As it moved, the rotten leaves and lumps of fat on its surface jiggled along with it, and dark yellow liquid constantly seeped from the gaps.

It had no face.

Only an enormous mouth, streaming with sauce, stretched across the front of its torso.

Its lips were thick, their edges curling outward. Sauce dribbled from the corners of its mouth, collecting in a small puddle on the floor.

That mouth began to move.

"I once counted."

It slowly shuffled one step toward Wangchuan, and the floor shook again.

"In this city of yours, every minute."

"Thousands of kilograms of food... are thrown into slop buckets."

Wangchuan remained where he was, his hands in his trouser pockets, his head tilted as he watched this enormous, walking mass of kitchen waste.

"The dying wails of those ingredients."

The huge mouth twitched, and a gust of sour, rotten air surged from its depths.

"I heard every one of them clearly."

"They begged me, begged me to seek redress for their suffering!"