More people might die!

Suguru Geto's hand froze around his teacup.

He had thought he was already prepared to hear any answer.

Wangchuan never spoke as anyone expected, and he had long since grown used to it.

But those words, "You're a pretty good person," came too lightly, too directly, too certainly, as though they had been waiting there for him all along.

Like a mirror he had never noticed, suddenly held before him.

He fell silent for a long while.

"...Did Gojo tell you?"

His voice was a little lower than before, carrying a faint, barely perceptible note of probing.

Wangchuan did not answer.

He simply picked up the teapot and poured more hot tea into his half-empty cup, moving unhurriedly, without any unnecessary expression on his face.

That silence was an answer in itself.

Watching his noncommittal expression, Suguru Geto's lips moved slightly, as though he wanted to say something, only to swallow it back down.

Then Wangchuan set the teapot back on the counter, lifted his cup for a sip, and raised his eyes to Suguru Geto.

"Actually, I'm the same."

His voice was quiet, his tone as flat as before.

"If I were in your position."

"Maybe."

He paused, turning the cup slightly in his hand.

"More people would die."

"Of course, I think you went too far with one thing you did later."

"Or extreme would be more accurate."

"If it were me, I couldn't turn my back on my own family."

As those words fell, the air in the oden shop seemed to freeze for an instant.

Suguru Geto's expression did not change, but his fingers tightened around his teacup.

Miguel's shoulders tensed slightly.

Larue's gaze shifted from Wangchuan's face to his hands, as though checking that they were making no unnecessary movements.

Because they had all noticed.

Wangchuan had been serious when he said more people would die.

It was completely different from his earlier casual manner.

It lay hidden behind the same easy tone, within the same relaxed posture, yet it was like an underground river flowing beneath a thin layer of ice.

You could not see the water moving, but you knew it was there.

And very deep.

Suguru Geto set down his teacup and watched Wangchuan quietly for several seconds.

Then he let out a soft breath, the corners of his mouth curving.

That smile was different from before, with less polite distance and a little more of something closer to genuine.

"...I'm starting to think that two billion was well spent."

He automatically ignored Wangchuan's last remark.

He pushed his chair back a little, stood, and straightened the collar of his monk's robes.

"And not just because of that mirror."

Wangchuan remained seated, holding his hot tea as he looked up at him.

Suguru Geto glanced down at him, his gaze carrying a thoughtful warmth unlike anything before.

"We'll talk again next time we meet."

He turned and walked toward the door.

Miguel and Larue followed him, and the cloth curtain lifted, letting in the night breeze with the sound of distant festival drums and summer insects.

Wangchuan's voice came from behind them, neither loud nor soft, with a hint of lazy amusement.

"Bring all the money next time you come to trade."

Suguru Geto did not turn around.

"...Got it."

"I'll be in Sendai for another two days."

"Come back for oden next time. My treat." Wangchuan still had not moved from his seat, slowly drinking the tea that had already gone cold.

Suguru Geto turned back to look at him, nodded, then turned toward the door.

Miguel lifted the cloth curtain for him, and the night breeze rushed in from outside, briefly dispersing the steam from the oden.

Before the curtain fell, Suguru Geto's voice drifted in from the doorway.

"Oh, right."

"That boy, Yuji Itadori... he really is a good kid."

Wangchuan's hand did not move around his teacup.

The cloth curtain fell back into place, and the footsteps gradually receded along the stone-paved road outside, fading into the chirping insects of Sendai's summer night and the faint beat of distant festival drums.

Wangchuan sat alone in the oden shop, finished the last cup of cold tea, and set it on the counter.

He stood, fished a few banknotes from his pocket and tucked them beneath a plate, then waved to the owner, who was busy putting away pots behind the counter.

"Thanks for the meal."

The owner did not even look up. "Come again when you have time."

Wangchuan lifted the cloth curtain and stepped outside.

The night breeze met his face with a damp scent of earth and vegetation. The lights over by the distant shopping street were still on, and festival music drifted over intermittently.

He stood outside the shop and stretched, then lowered his head to glance at his right hand.

In his sea of consciousness, that line of golden text floated quietly.

[Tso Lan Template fusion: 35%]

He stared at the number for a while, let out a soft breath, slipped his hands back into his trouser pockets, and headed back the way he had come.

After two steps, he seemed to remember something and muttered to himself.

"...Two billion."

"A few tens of millions in capital."

"Over 1.9 billion in net profit."

"Sure enough, selling Cursed Tools makes money much faster than jobs like missions."

He looked up at the ink-blue sky over Sendai's summer night. The half-moon hung between the buildings, its edge faintly blurred.

Wangchuan stared at the moon for two seconds, then curved his lips.

"The moon, huh..."

He turned, treading over scattered shadows of trees, and disappeared into the darkness beyond the streetlights.

At that same moment, somewhere on the outskirts of Sendai City.

Suguru Geto stood in the shadows beneath an overpass, holding the silver-gray mirror.

Moonlight spilled through the gaps between the bridge piers, reflecting a faint silver glow off the mirror. Its murky surface still reflected nothing, like an ancient well that had been filled in.

Miguel stood two paces behind him, arms folded across his chest, watching his back through the darkness.

"Geto!"

"Mm."

"That mirror... does it really work?"

Suguru Geto turned his wrist, angling the mirror toward the moonlight spilling down from above.

"It does," he said.

"I can sense the sealing Cursed Technique inside it. It's very intricate, and very stable."

"He put a lot of work into this."

Suguru Geto drew the mirror back and tucked it inside his robes.

"But..."

"I can sense that control over this mirror is in his hands."

"If he wants to, he can retrieve it through his Cursed Technique at any time."

"So he gets the money, and we get the right to use it."

His tone was calm as he said this, without any resentment at having been outmaneuvered.

Miguel fell silent for a while, then asked, "Then why did you still buy it?"

Suguru Geto turned to glance at him.

"Because you need it."

He added another remark.

"Besides, two billion for a Cursed Tool that can contain Cursed Spirits below Special Grade at any time isn't a bad deal."

"More importantly."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at the lights of Sendai City in the distance.

"It puts him in a position where there's a business relationship between us."

"That connection is worth spending two billion to establish."

Miguel said nothing more and simply nodded.

Suguru Geto drew the collar of his monk's robes closer, then turned and walked deeper into the shadows beneath the bridge.

"Let's go."

"We still have things to do tomorrow."