《Persona: Shibuya Stories》 Chapter 1 Chapter 1 Shibuya, Tokyo, Japan. The boy ran, his hurried footsteps slapping against the damp asphalt. The early spring air carried a lingering chill, mixed with the unmistakable scent of earth stirring back to life. Evergreen trees lined the sidewalk, their deep green hues standing in stark contrast to the pedestrians bustling past in their colorful Sunday best. The city breathed with a lazy holiday air, a tranquil harmony between man and nature. But the boy had no time to appreciate it. He looked no older than eighteen or nineteen, his youth evident yet stripped of any childishness. His jet-black hair was unstyled, neither dyed nor curled, left in its natural state. Beneath thick brows, his dark eyes gleamed¡ªsharp, deep, and intense, like polished obsidian. Yet at this moment, those eyes burned with urgency. His entire expression was taut with anxiety, his breath quick as he muttered in Chinese, "I''m going to be late... I''m going to be late... Shit..." Trailing beside him was a girl, strikingly beautiful, with long brown hair tied high in a ponytail. She looked fifteen or sixteen, her youthful features adorned with a small teardrop mole beneath her eye. Language is a delicate art, and in the phrase "beautiful girl," every word carried weight¡ªespecially the first. Her bangs cast a delicate shadow on her forehead, her large, lively eyes shimmering with the innocence and curiosity of a small animal. Her nose was soft, her lips a faint pink, and her presence so radiant it was almost blinding. She was shorter than him, her slender frame wrapped in a black and yellow sports jacket perfect for the season. She jogged beside him, unfazed by his complaints, tilting her head in confusion. "I''ve already told you," she said, a slight pout forming, "I don''t understand what you''re saying in Chinese..." In a foreign country, hearing an Asian speak Chinese was enough to determine their origin. And yes, the boy sprinting through the streets of Tokyo, panic evident in every movement, was speaking fluent Mandarin. His voice cut through the foreign city like an unexpected gust of wind, unsettling yet clear. "Agnes," he gasped, still running, "I was just complaining: I''m going to be late!" He fumbled with his worn leather wallet, its attached keychain jingling in the sunlight. His fingers dug inside, pulling out a fistful of coins before scanning his surroundings. The sound of metal clinking together filled the air. It was strange. People often assumed men were naturally stronger than women. In physical exams, boys had to run 200 meters farther than girls. Those who cried for gender equality rarely volunteered to run the extra distance. It was an unspoken truth, embedded deep in human perception. Yet here was this boy, gasping for air, drenched in sweat¡ªand beside him, the girl jogged effortlessly. Leisurely, even. Her face was calm, her breathing steady, as if she were merely out for a casual stroll. "I see! Chinese is really profound!" she chirped, her voice light. Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, she tried to mimic his words using Japanese phonetics. "Does it sound right?" "Like, like, like..." Too exhausted to argue about her clumsy attempt at Chinese, he waved her off and kept running. She huffed, puffing out her cheeks in irritation at his lack of engagement, but stayed by his side nonetheless. Their destination loomed ahead¡ªa restaurant with a garish sign: "Chinese Cuisine¡ªThe Excitement of the Celestial Empire! The Best Cuisine!" The kind of name neither Chinese nor Japanese people could take seriously. A place catering to foreigners who couldn''t tell authentic Chinese food from a cheap imitation. Much like how there were no "Mr. Li''s Beef Noodles" in California, yet clueless tourists flocked to such places, convinced they were experiencing real Chinese culture. And more often than not, these places thrived. He turned into a back alley, his movements practiced. Pulling out his phone, he fitted the key into the lock and pushed open the staff entrance. His dark eyes flicked to the screen¡ª8:28 AM. Just in time. Breathless, he pressed his fingerprint against the clock-in machine. Beep! The screen flashed:"Jin Kasuga, clocked in successfully." Relief flooded him. The restaurant opened at 10 AM, and staff were required to arrive by 8:30 for prep work. He had made it. Just then, his phone buzzed. A message lit up the screen: "The world is about to fall into chaos. If you need the power to change it, click the link below." Jin Kasuga stared at it for a second. "Fuck off!" Without hesitation, he unleashed his frustration by replying with a stream of insults before shoving the phone back into his pocket. He turned toward his locker, pulling out his uniform. A small mirror hung inside, reflecting his face. And two more. "Hey! Chinaman, late again today?" Two Japanese men loomed behind him, arms slung around his shoulders. One had bleached blond hair and earrings, the other a thin mustache. The acrid stench of tobacco clung to them, making Jin''s nose wrinkle. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. "I''m not late," he muttered. "If I say you''re late, you''re late!" The blond man sneered, his shoulders bouncing with laughter. "Next time, come an hour early! Learn some discipline!" Behind them, Agnes giggled. "Hit him! Swish! Use Chinese-gong-fu!" Jin rolled his eyes. "If you weren¡¯t the manager¡¯s son, I¡¯d have beaten you to a pulp by now." The mustached thug blinked, confused. "Brother Nakano, what did he say? He¡¯s speaking in foreign gibberish!" "I said: I understand." Jin deadpanned. Before the blond man could retort, a voice barked from the doorway. "What are you idiots doing back here?!" A burly man in a chef¡¯s uniform glared at them¡ªJin''s boss. The blond man flinched before quickly turning the blame elsewhere. "Dad! I was teaching the new guy a lesson! He¡¯s always late! Right, Chinaman? Don¡¯t be late next time!" The boss¡¯s glare shifted to Jiang Tianwei. "You lazy brat! Your salary¡¯s docked 2,000 yen! Now get to work!" Jiang Tianwei clenched his fists, anger simmering. Before he could lash out, Agnes''s small hands pressed against his shoulders, her voice whispering comfort. "They¡¯re not worth it," she said softly. "Just low-class thugs. Don¡¯t waste your energy." Oddly enough, despite her clear involvement earlier¡ªmocking the bullies, riling up Jiang Tianwei¡ªneither the manager nor the two men acknowledged her presence. It wasn¡¯t because she had a low presence. It wasn¡¯t because she had any special powers. It was because... Agnes wasn¡¯t there. Her tiny fist, which had playfully aimed at the three men¡¯s faces, had passed through them like mist. As though she was nothing more than a poorly rendered 3D model, a cutscene gone wrong. Because Agnes... She was a ghost.
The main business hours of a restaurant are collectively referred to as [meal times]. Because breakfast is too early, some restaurants focus on lunch and dinner, adjusting their hours accordingly. The so-called Chinese restaurant where Jin Kasuga works feels exactly like that. Like all [foreign restaurants], the food is not only bad but also overpriced, feeding into stereotypes about different cultures. Let me tell you a secret. Why did this restaurant hire Jin? Because a Chinese restaurant with a Chinese waiter looks more authentic. It¡¯s the same logic as opening a Japanese restaurant in China¡ªyou have to hire a few Japanese staff to enhance credibility. In Japan, if hiring cute girls is an option, they¡¯ll do it¡ªplaying into the cultural obsession with the "second dimension." So why didn¡¯t this restaurant hire a Chinese girl? Because most Chinese students in Japan don''t see cheongsams and steamed buns as symbols of their culture. As a result, the boss ended up with a set of women''s uniforms that were completely useless. From the moment the restaurant opens at ten, there¡¯s a lull before the rush begins around eleven and lasts until about two in the afternoon. During downtime, staff take turns resting in the back. The boss had tried to pressure Jin into skipping his breaks and working overtime. He always refused, politely but firmly. What a joke. Who would willingly give up their break? Rest time is precious! If the boss wanted him to work through it, he''d have to pay extra. But the stingy man wouldn¡¯t part with a single yen more, so he had no choice but to let Jiang rest. Legally, discrimination is "prohibited," at least on paper. The boss knew better than to push too hard¡ªhe feared that one day, Jin might push back in a way that could cause real trouble for him. By the time Jin finally got to the staff lounge, it was already past two. Yawning, he slumped into the uncomfortable chair and stretched lazily. He could almost hear the creaking of his overworked body. "Finally, a break. I''m so bored." Agnes hovered in front of him, half her body sinking into the table. At first glance, she looked like a bizarre anime character from some cult classic. Jin sighed and shrugged. He wanted to reply, but the moment he opened his mouth, exhaustion took over, and his words turned into another yawn. Seeing this, Agnes pouted and playfully stuck her hand into his mouth. He didn¡¯t react. They couldn¡¯t physically interact anyway, so he let her be. It was really a coincidence how they met. Like any other teenage boy, Jin used to daydream about having supernatural powers. But as he grew older, reality crushed that fantasy. He was just an ordinary person. Or so he thought. A few years ago, his father took a job in Japan, and Jin and his mother followed. It was supposed to be a new beginning. He had fantasized about living in Japan¡ªunlimited access to games, movies, and anime without worrying about them suddenly disappearing from the internet. But reality slapped him in the face. At first, things went well for his father. But one year later, tragedy struck. While driving, his father suddenly lost consciousness. The car crashed through a guardrail and sank into the sea. His mother and he survived. His father did not. He would sleep forever beneath the blue sky of a foreign land. Grief consumed his mother. Eventually, she remarried. From that moment, Jin became an unwanted burden. His mother still sent him living expenses¡ªat first, every month. Then every few months. Now? He couldn''t even remember the last time he received anything. Teenage pride kept him from accepting money from his stepfather. He refused to rely on people who didn¡¯t truly care. So he started working¡ªdelivering newspapers in the morning, waiting tables at the Chinese restaurant during the day, and assisting with aerobic boxing at the gym at night. He chose these jobs for one reason alone: the hourly pay. That¡¯s why he put up with the discrimination at the restaurant. The money was decent. But deep down, he had a dream¡ªa stubborn, youthful dream. To save up, transfer to a game design program, and one day work for his favorite game company, creating the kind of games that had once filled his world with excitement. Yet life was all about compromise. He could reject his stepfather¡¯s support, but when it came to money and survival, he had to bow his head and endure. Then, just a day after he started juggling three jobs, he met her. A girl. Wandering the streets of Shibuya. Lost. At the time, she was staring hungrily at a display case filled with crepes, her eyes brimming with longing. On a whim¡ªmaybe out of kindness, maybe because she was adorable¡ªhe approached her. And that was it. She never left him alone after that. In Chinese, they call it being haunted. It wasn¡¯t until then that Jin realized¡ªhe could see ghosts. Was this the legendary Yin-Yang Eye? He should have been scared. But Agnes wasn¡¯t a horror-movie ghost. She didn¡¯t make creepy noises. She wasn¡¯t grotesque. In fact, she looked like she had stepped out of an ancient Chinese tale¡ªone of those beautiful ghostly women who fell hopelessly in love with scholars. Maybe he had watched too many adaptations of "Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio," but part of him felt like he had struck gold. Agnes, for her part, remembered almost nothing. Not her past, not her death¡ªonly her name. She had nowhere to go, no one to talk to. And now, someone could finally see her. She wasn¡¯t about to let that go. Jin didn¡¯t know how to exorcise ghosts. So, a strange companionship began. Lying back in his chair, exhaustion overtook him. His eyelids twitched. Sleep pulled him under. And then¡ª He dreamed. A weightless space, floating endlessly. He knew he was dreaming. A lucid dream. In the void, a figure appeared. A man in a red suit. Sitting in a wheelchair. Speaking, though his words were lost in the emptiness. The more Jin looked, the harder it was to see the man¡¯s face. Was he young or old? A man or a woman? The features blurred, shifting like ripples in a pond. And then... Darkness swallowed everything. Jin''s consciousness sank into oblivion. Chapter 2 Chapter 2 There is a Chinese saying: "What you think about during the day, you will dream about at night." If that were true, Jin Kasuga really needed to rethink his daytime thoughts¡ªbecause why on earth was he dreaming of a man in a red suit sitting in a wheelchair? More importantly, he felt like he had seen this person before. There was something familiar about him... A wheelchair, a suit, a man¡­ Jin bolted upright from his nap, his voice echoing through the break room as he rubbed his groggy eyes. The slightly chilly air conditioning sent a shiver down his spine, his sweaty back prickling as the cold air hit him. His muscles twitched involuntarily. "You scared me to death¡ªhey, even though I already died ages ago! What¡¯s wrong with you?" Agnes teasing voice rang out beside him. It seemed that even as a ghost, she still enjoyed making jokes, even about her own death. (If she can be so lighthearted about dying, then what¡¯s stopping her from moving on? What is she still holding onto?) Jin pondered this for a moment before sighing and recounting his strange dream to her. As he spoke, he lazily pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. There was a new message in the notification bar: "The world is about to end. Humanity needs the power to change fate. Click the link below¡­" Something about this message felt eerier than the usual scam texts. Agnes leaned in curiously, but as she stared at the phone, her brows furrowed in confusion. Although she recognized most of the Chinese characters, their meaning escaped her entirely. "What¡¯s this?" Just as Jin was about to explain, the break room door was suddenly kicked open with a loud bang. The boss¡¯s son strutted in, his bleached blonde hair and earrings gleaming under the fluorescent light. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, his arrogant expression that of someone who thought himself superior. "Break time¡¯s over. Get back to work!" Jin glanced at his phone again¡ªthere were still ten minutes left before his shift started. But seeing the other man puff out a cloud of smoke, Jin, who loathed the smell of tobacco, simply sighed in resignation. He threw on his uniform and left without a word. There were too many people like this in the world. If he wasted energy getting angry at every single one of them, he¡¯d be dead from exhaustion by now. When you¡¯re alone in a foreign country, the most important thing you can learn is how to endure. Discrimination exists everywhere, in every nation, in every race. It¡¯s an unspoken reality. "Those who are not of my kind must have different hearts." People cling to the hierarchy of contempt, comforting themselves by looking down on those even worse off than they are. That¡¯s just human nature. And Jin Kasuga? His priority was survival. If he fought back now, if he let his temper get the better of him, he¡¯d lose this job. He could even end up with a criminal record, making it even harder to find work in the future. So he endured. That was all he could do. His shift at the restaurant dragged on with forced smiles and mindless repetition. When it was finally over, he clocked out as fast as possible, muttered a half-hearted farewell, and left. After stopping by a convenience store for a sandwich, he headed to his second job at the gym. Thanks to the boxing lessons he¡¯d taken as a kid at the Children¡¯s Palace, he had managed to land a part-time job as an assistant instructor for aerobic boxing. The work was exhausting, but at least there was no blatant workplace bullying. That alone made it more bearable than the restaurant. By the time he trudged home to his cramped two-story apartment, it was already past eleven at night. Only one kind of person lived in a place this cheap: people with no money. Most of his neighbors were either already asleep or still out working overtime. Every person in this building had their own unfortunate story to tell. As he climbed the rusted metal staircase, the sound of his own footsteps echoed hollowly in the quiet night. On the second floor, only the unit next to his was still lit. A thin strip of warm light seeped through the crack beneath the door, cutting through the darkness like a dividing line between two worlds. From inside came the off-key wailing of an old tape recorder playing a famous Peking opera: "Think of me, Xiang Yu, with my strength to pull up mountains and my courage to conquer the world! The times are not favorable, and my horse will not move! What can I do if my horse will not move! Yu Xi, Yu Xi, what can I do!" The familiar melody carried a nostalgic sorrow that struck Jin Kasuga''s heart. For a fleeting moment, he felt as if he were back home. But the next step he took reminded him of the truth¡ªthe heavy weight in his limbs, the aching exhaustion, the creaking stairs beneath his feet. The harsh reality of his life in this foreign land. Xiang Yu, a once-great hero, had fallen at the hands of mere mortals. And what was he? Just another nobody scraping by. "Well¡­" he exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples. "[Xiaotian, you''re back?]" The sudden voice startled him. Turning, he saw a short, chubby old man standing in the doorway, a warm smile on his wrinkled face. Dressed in a loose vest and shorts, he lazily waved a large cattail leaf fan to swat away the spring mosquitoes. Everything about him¡ªfrom his posture to his expression¡ªradiated a familiar warmth. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. ¡°[Xiaotian, have you eaten yet? Come in and have a bite! Today I made shredded pork with fish sauce, Kung Pao chicken, and a fried egg with chili. Ah, it smells so good! Come, eat with me!]¡± Every time Jiang Tianwei heard this invitation, he felt a lump rise in his throat, his emotions tangled in a mix of gratitude and sorrow. Mr. Liu Shunqing, his next-door neighbor, had a story much like his own. He had come to Japan with his son, only to find himself living alone as his child grew busier and busier. A famous chef back in China, Mr. Liu had once dreamed of making a name for himself in this foreign land. But not knowing a word of Japanese had made things impossible. He had talent, but no opportunity. Cooking was his way of coping with loneliness. The day they met, he had listened to Jin¡¯s story with a dark expression, cursing his mother¡¯s remarriage as if it were a personal betrayal. That night, the old man had invited him into his home, cooking an elaborate feast of eight dishes¡ªfour cold, four hot¡ªwith a steaming pot of rice and a hearty mutton meatball soup. "Boy, just eat as much as you want. From now on, we are father and son! If the Chinese don¡¯t stand by the Chinese, then who will?!" Mr. Liu wasn¡¯t eloquent, but his simple, wholehearted kindness had left a deep mark on Jin''s heart. He hadn¡¯t shed a single tear at his father¡¯s funeral. He hadn¡¯t cried when his mother remarried. But that night, in the home of a man who had once been a stranger, he had cried for the first time. Tears didn¡¯t make a person weak. That night, he had learned they could also make a person stronger. Jin swallowed the lump in his throat, nodding firmly as he followed Mr. Liu inside.
Mr. Liu¡¯s craftsmanship was beyond reproach. The apartments here were cheap, so naturally, there was no chance of fancy decor. The simple furnishings bore the marks of time, their wear and tear a testament to the many tenants who had passed through. The wooden tables had peeling paint, the tablecloths had faded beyond recognition, the walls were yellowed, and the windows seemed permanently clouded no matter how much one tried to clean them. Yet, within this humble space, the aroma of Liu''s cooking breathed life into the room. The food was unmistakably Chinese¡ªrich in flavor, steeped in nostalgia. It carried the essence of home, a warmth that no lavish restaurant could replicate. Unfortunately, in a foreign land, authenticity often took a backseat to perception. More than taste, what mattered was conforming to the expectations of what foreigners thought Chinese food should be. A perfect example was the infamous Chinese takeout box in America¡ªa red, square container holding noodles that, in reality, did not exist in China. And yet, to everyone except the Chinese, it was a defining symbol of their cuisine. This was democracy, Western capitalism¡¯s beloved principle: the collective deciding reality, even if the truth stood otherwise. Listening to Chinese opera, eating familiar dishes, and chatting in his native tongue, Jin Kasuga felt the exhaustion of the day melt away. The simple joy of this meal, shared with a fellow countryman, filled a void that no amount of money could bridge. The dinner stretched close to an hour, as conversation was an integral part of dining culture. If not for his frequent yawns, Master Liu might never have let him leave. Returning to his apartment, Jin didn''t even bother turning on the lights. He collapsed onto his bed, still in his clothes, kicked off his shoes, and wrapped himself in a quilt, drifting off almost instantly. In his half-conscious state, he vaguely heard his phone buzz, but fatigue was an impenetrable weight on his eyelids. Fang Zexia, ever-curious, floated over to investigate. Her ghostly presence illuminated the dim room as she hovered over the phone. The first message was in Chinese characters, the square strokes forming an ominous decree: "The end is approaching. I hereby grant you the power to fight back. The software has been automatically installed..." Before the message would be comprehended, another notification replaced it. From: Sadayo Kawakami Content: Mr. Jin, please come to the school to sign the documents related to your suspension... Nothing unusual happened that night. Jin awoke early, his body sore and sluggish from inadequate sleep. Every muscle felt dull and heavy, his energy drained before the day had even begun. In contrast, Agnes was as lively as ever. The ghost girl hovered before him, grinning mischievously, clearly waiting for him to ask. "Why are you laughing?" he muttered groggily. "Hmm~ Tell me a Chinese joke, or I won''t tell you~" she teased, her face lit with amusement. "Once upon a time, there was a mountain. In the mountain, there was a temple..." "I want to hear Chinese jokes!" "There is a mountain in China, and in that mountain, there is a temple..." "Aren''t you being too insincere?" "[There is a mountain in China, and there is a temple in the mountain...]" "I don''t understand Chinese anymore!" This ridiculous back-and-forth had become their morning ritual. Ghosts didn''t sleep, and for Agnes, the long night was nothing but an eternity of boredom. The moment Jinwoke up, she would unleash all her pent-up energy, filling the air with playful antics. Once satisfied, she puffed out her chest and announced with a knowing smirk, "I heard... your homeroom teacher wants you to come to school!" "Where did you hear that?" he asked, suddenly alert. When a ghost told you they had "heard" something, it was never a good sign. A chill crept down his spine, and he instinctively glanced around his room, half-expecting a shadowy figure to emerge from the darkness. "I saw it on your phone!" she chirped. "So you peeked at my messages?" he retorted, laughing despite himself. She giggled in return. Of course, as a ghost, she couldn''t physically touch his phone. The notification must have appeared when the screen lit up, catching her attention. His homeroom teacher... The name Kawakami stirred a faint sense of guilt. He must have caused her quite a bit of trouble. A student like him could only be considered a problem child, and surely, she had worried about him more times than he deserved. Shujin Academy was a well-known institution. It boasted famous alumni, including a former Olympic volleyball champion, Suguru Kamoshida, now a coach at the school. The principal, eager for prestige, was relentless in his efforts to elevate the academy¡¯s reputation. Rumor had it that he had recently recruited a promising rhythmic gymnast and had even accepted a male student with a violent criminal record. Strangely enough, despite the excitement surrounding the gymnast, her identity remained a mystery. However, the other student''s name had already spread like wildfire¡ªAmamiya Ren. It was an oddly gentle name for someone with a violent past. Jin only knew about all this from the school¡¯s group chat, where his classmates eagerly speculated. Teenagers thrived on gossip, and their imaginations ran wild. Some assumed the rhythmic gymnast was a stunning beauty, others believed the principal was making a statement about diversity and second chances. The most absurd theories suggested Amamiya Ren was a mafia leader, involved in state secrets, or even part of a U.S. conspiracy to infiltrate Japan. Teenagers and their wild fantasies... Jin skimmed through the messages, unimpressed. It was just another example of youthful ignorance. Dragging himself to his closet, he opened the neglected space, and a musty smell greeted him. From the farthest corner, he pulled out his Shujin Academy uniform. A standard Western-style school uniform¡ªblack suit jacket and red-and-black plaid trousers. The school was lax about regulations; as long as students wore these two pieces, they were considered in uniform. Some layered colorful hoodies underneath, others draped the jacket around their waists. It was freedom within limits. Many students, especially fashion-conscious girls, had enrolled purely for this reason. Slipping into his uniform, Jin finally felt the weight of reality settle on him. Ah... so I really am a high school student. "Oh! So you''re a high school student!" Agnes echoed dramatically, mimicking his internal monologue. He shot her an unimpressed glance but didn''t argue. Dusting off his neglected school bag, he stuffed a few textbooks inside. He doubted he''d be staying long, but it was best to keep up appearances. Right. He quickly messaged his workplace to inform them of his absence. In Japan, communication and etiquette were everything. "Are you going to school?" Jin''s eyes sparkled. "How exciting! So youthful!" "Yeah, yeah... and you''re coming with me, aren''t you?" he sighed, already resigned to her company. Exiting his apartment, he headed towards a small coffee shop tucked in the alley¡ªLeblanc. It was his usual breakfast spot. Normally, at this hour, it would be empty, but today, someone else was here. A boy with messy black curls and glasses sat quietly at the counter, his uniform crisp, his presence unassuming. He ate his curry in silence, as if lost in thought. Jin Kasuga had a feeling this wasn¡¯t the last time their paths would cross. Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Judging by this rule, Jin Kasuga was not in a good mood today. The sky above was heavy with dark, rolling clouds, and the damp scent of earth filled the air. With each step, the moisture clung to his hair, and his shirt stuck uncomfortably to his skin. The oppressive atmosphere carried only one promise: rain was imminent. (Should I stop by the store and buy an umbrella? Forget it. Why waste money on that?) With that thought, Jin quickened his pace, shoveling Lou Blanc¡¯s delicious curry into his mouth. Yet, despite the rich flavors, an unshakable melancholy loomed over him. The idea of returning to school, facing the uncertainties of his future¡ªit all gnawed at the edges of his mind, like a serpent lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. No matter how much he tried to push the thoughts away, they crept back in, whispering the same question over and over: (Is this really how my life is going to be?) On the TV screen, an exaggerated host was interviewing an important-looking figure. Bold text scrolled across the bottom: "Shocking Interview! The Truth Behind the Mysterious Disease That''s Making People Useless!" It was a new, unexplained affliction that had recently spread through Japan. Perfectly healthy individuals would suddenly lose all sense of desire, their minds unraveling into madness before becoming utterly dependent on others for even the most basic functions¡ªeating, drinking, relieving themselves. They called it the "Disabled Syndrome." Jin didn¡¯t care to listen any further. Dark thoughts already plagued his mind, and he didn¡¯t need more fuel for his anxiety. He threw down money for the meal, grabbed his backpack, and left the caf¨¦ as if escaping. To get to school¡ªor anywhere, really¡ªone had to pass through Shibuya Station, a chaotic underground maze that encapsulated the very essence of Japanese society. Crammed into the subway like sardines in a tin, Jin sincerely envied Agnes¡¯s ghostly form. People worldwide joked about being overworked, but few knew that the term "salaryman" was first coined by the Japanese as self-mockery. The subway was suffocating. Shoulder to shoulder, everyone looked like livestock packed into a steel cage by a monstrous entity called "society." They moved mechanically, performing their assigned duties without question. In contrast, Agnes twirled through the air, her translucent form gliding effortlessly in a graceful 720-degree spin. Her ethereal dance should have been mesmerizing, but the crowd blocked most of it, leaving only fragmented glimpses. (Like an artistic mosaic, in a way.) By the time Jin emerged from the station, he felt as though his lungs had been crushed. He was nauseous, ready to collapse. As he stepped outside, he saw dark spots bloom on the pavement, followed by the rhythmic patter of rain descending in tight lines. (Tsk. I should have bought an umbrella back in Shikenjaya.) Sighing, he darted under the nearest eaves, seeking shelter. He debated his options¡ªshould he run through the rain to school or wait for it to pass? Sudden showers like this often disappeared as quickly as they arrived. Before he could decide, another student rushed in from the station entrance, dripping wet. Jin recognized him¡ªmessy curly hair, glasses, and the same uniform. He had been eating curry at Lou Blanc earlier. (What a coincidence.) Jin considered striking up a conversation but hesitated. They weren¡¯t acquainted. And so, like any good social recluse, he merely glanced at the boy before lowering his head and pretending to be engrossed in his phone. The awkward silence was interrupted when another figure dashed toward them. A girl this time¡ªone whose outfit exemplified the school¡¯s relaxed uniform policy. A white hooded sweater beneath her black coat, paired with striking red tights under a black-and-red plaid skirt. Among the sea of students, she stood out like a beacon. (I know her¡­ A returnee student? What was her name again? She¡¯s in my class, right?) She pulled back her hood, revealing a cascade of golden hair tied into two low ponytails. Her doll-like face was almost too delicate, as though she had stepped out of a painting. A girl like her was bound to be the topic of discussion among students. Unfortunately, since Jin rarely attended class, he had no real impression of her. "Oh? So that¡¯s your type?" Agnes smirked knowingly, resting her chin in her palm. Jiang Tianwei rolled his eyes. He wanted to retort, but speaking to thin air in public would be social suicide. He glanced at Fang Zexia again, watching as she playfully adjusted her own hair into twin tails to mimic the girl. Ghosts had it easy¡ªshe could change her hairstyle with a flick of the wrist. If only he had that ability, he mused. Imagine swapping a 1,000-yen note for a 10,000-yen one. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp honk. A sleek black luxury car pulled up nearby, the window rolling down to reveal a square-jawed man with sharp features. Jin recognized him instantly¡ªKamoshida Taku, the symbol of Shujin Academy. Despite not being an elite school, Shujin was highly sought after, largely thanks to this former Olympic champion. Kamoshida¡¯s volleyball team dominated national competitions, sending wave after wave of talent into the professional world. Parents adored him. Students, however, had an unspoken agreement: don¡¯t mess with Kamoshida. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. The girl beside Jin nodded to him before dashing to the car, slipping inside without hesitation. (Ah, I remember now! Takamaki Ann! People say she¡¯s Kamoshida¡¯s¡­ No wonder she looked familiar.) Kamoshida¡¯s gaze landed on Jin Kasuga. With a raised chin, he offered, "Want a ride?" It wasn¡¯t a genuine invitation. The coldness in his eyes made that clear. Jiang Tianwei quickly shook his head. He had no interest in getting involved. Shujin had long accepted the dynamic between Kamoshida and Takamaki, and no one dared to question it. The car sped off, leaving only the sound of rain in its wake. Jiang Tianwei sighed, despising the way power played out in this school. But like most, he chose silence¡ªafter all, it wasn¡¯t his business. "Ahhh! Damn it, that Kamoshida bastard!" A furious voice shattered the quiet. Jin turned to see a blond-haired student storming toward them, his rage palpable. (Dyed hair? A delinquent?) He glanced up at the sky. The rain had lessened. Weighing his options, he lifted his schoolbag over his head as a makeshift shield and began his walk toward the school, leaving the blond boy and his anger behind.
The faculty office felt the same no matter where it was. Textbooks often painted teachers as paragons of wisdom and virtue, but in reality, they were just another group of overworked office workers. Everyone sat at their desks, buried in their own tasks, going through the motions of the job. Jin Kasuga¡¯s homeroom teacher, Kawakami Sadayo, embodied this mundanity. Her perpetually drooping eyes and slightly unkempt curly hair hinted at exhaustion rather than elegance. Dressed in a yellow striped shirt and a plain one-step skirt, she looked more like a weary employee counting the hours than an inspiring educator. The document Jin had to sign was, at its core, a disclaimer. A formal statement absolving the school of any responsibility during his leave of absence. It boiled down to one thing: the student was on his own. "Alright, I got it." In moments like these, most homeroom teachers would at least feign concern, offering generic words of encouragement. But Kawakami was known for her apathy. No one expected much from her, and she didn¡¯t expect much from them. "You¡­" Jin turned back. Kawakami had started to say something, lips parting slightly before closing again. After a brief sigh, she dropped whatever thought had surfaced. Jin left, but as he stepped out, he heard her muttering behind him, "Why do all the problem students end up in my class..." She probably did want to say something¡ªmaybe even something kind¡ªbut in the end, she chose silence. Less trouble that way. By the time he left the office, it was already nine o¡¯clock. Too late to go to work, too early to call it a day. Walking out of the school, Jin pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts before tapping on a familiar name. "Got time today? Need to test the meds?" Jin¡¯s other job wasn¡¯t exactly conventional. He worked as a drug tester. Everyone knew that before any medication was mass-produced, it had to go through rigorous testing. First on mice, then on humans. That¡¯s where people like Jin came in¡ªguinea pigs for unapproved treatments. It wasn¡¯t exactly legal, but it paid well. The doctor he worked with ran a small clinic near Sixuan Tea House. She was always experimenting with something, and Jin had volunteered more than once. The side effects, though¡­ frequent fainting, nausea. He had cut back after a few close calls. Still, money was money. The message went unanswered. Maybe she was busy. Jin sighed and shoved his phone back into his pocket, resigning himself to a slow day. "Let¡¯s go! Show me around the school!" The contrast between Jin¡¯s lethargy and Agnes''s boundless energy was almost comical. The ghost floated beside him, her eyes sparkling as though everything around her was a wonder. She gasped at the wind rustling the leaves, mimicked the chirping of sparrows, and cheered enthusiastically at the sports teams practicing on the field. She was, quite literally, a happy ghost. Jin couldn¡¯t help but smile. It was hard not to feel lighter around her. He once mentioned this to her, and she had puffed out her chest proudly. "That¡¯s the magic of fragrance!" she declared. Must be nice, he thought. The living had to constantly compromise, break themselves down bit by bit to survive. Sometimes, being a ghost seemed easier. Lost in thought, Jin barely noticed that he had walked past the school gates. The rain had stopped, though the sky was still overcast. He straightened his back and turned for one last look at the school¡ªa farewell to the place he had barely attended. And then he froze. "What the¡ª?!" The school was gone. In its place stood a towering European-style castle, its grand spires stabbing into the sky like something out of a dream¡ªor a nightmare. Jin rubbed his eyes. No change. The castle remained, translucent and shimmering like a mirage. Through its walls, he could just barely make out the faint outline of the school. "Wow! I didn¡¯t know high schools could transform!" Agnes spun around in excitement, clearly unfazed. Jin, however, was not amused. "This is impossible¡­" There had to be a rational explanation. A collective hallucination? A mirage? Or¡ª His stomach twisted. Maybe this was it. Maybe he had finally cracked. That strange disease going around¡ªpeople losing their minds, turning catatonic¡ªwas this the start of it for him? He yanked out his phone, switching to the camera. Through the screen, the school looked completely normal. No castle. No illusions. Just the ordinary campus he knew. Jin¡¯s pulse pounded in his ears. "No way¡­" He hesitated only a moment before stepping forward. The moment he crossed the threshold, the illusion intensified. The castle solidified around him. A massive red gate loomed ahead, gilded edges shimmering under some unseen light. It looked ancient yet pristine, regal yet ominous. Jin pushed against it, expecting resistance. Instead, it swung open effortlessly, as if inviting him in. The inside was even grander. Black and white floor tiles stretched into the distance, while pale walls adorned with intricate rose motifs gave the space an eerie charm. The air was thick with the scent of something sweet, cloying, almost suffocating. A grand staircase split into two on either side of the hall, curving upward. Above it hung a massive painting¡ªa knight in full armor, striking a noble pose. Something about it nagged at Jin¡¯s memory. Then it hit him. "Is that¡­ Kamoshida?" The resemblance was uncanny. Without his usual sleazy expression, the man in the portrait exuded authority rather than arrogance. But it was still him. A loud clanking sound echoed from the side halls. Jin ducked behind a pillar, peering out cautiously. Knights¡ªat least a dozen of them¡ªmarched into the hall, their armor clanking as they moved. Their proportions were all wrong: bloated torsos, spindly legs, tiny helmets. They looked like caricatures, yet the weapons they carried were undeniably real. The way their swords gleamed under the chandeliers made his blood run cold. (This isn¡¯t some theme park stunt¡­) Jin¡¯s instincts screamed at him to leave. He took a step back¡ª BZZZT! His phone vibrated. The tiny sound cut through the silence like a gunshot. The knights¡¯ heads snapped in his direction. "WHO GOES THERE?! CAPTURE HIM!" Jin bolted. He sprinted for the exit, ignoring the burning in his lungs. He was almost there¡ª Then he saw them. Four knights blocked the doorway, shields raised, ready to charge. "Oh, hell¡ª" Before he could finish the thought, they rushed him. Jin barely had time to react before the world exploded into chaos. Chapter 4 Chapter 4 I forgot where I heard that the shield was first invented as a weapon. Some boring American TV dramas had tested this theory, showing that a strong Spartan, using all his might to strike a person''s head with the edge of his shield, could inflict damage equivalent to a car crash¡ªfatal and devastating. A great Chinese thinker once said that practice makes perfect. But Jin Kasuga never imagined he''d one day put this knowledge to the test in such a horrifying way. The four armored knights charging at him were already heavy, and with the added force of their acceleration, plus the sheer hardness of their shields, Jin experienced firsthand what it felt like to be flattened like dough. His bones groaned under the pressure, a sickening crunch echoing through his body. His organs felt as though they were being forced up his throat. Pain and suffocation blurred his vision until the world dissolved into darkness. Kasumi let out a bloodcurdling scream. It was the first time Jin had heard a girl wail so desperately. The sound was sharp, raw, and slightly broken¡ª (Am I going to die...? If I had known... I would have...) His consciousness faded. Everything was chaos. In the void, where up and down no longer existed, Jin felt as though he were submerged in water. His body was weightless, drifting with an unseen current. He had no strength to move, only to be carried by whatever force dictated his existence. A shimmering blue swallowtail butterfly appeared in the abyss, its wings dusted with an ethereal white glow. It fluttered through the sea of his consciousness. Jin instinctively reached out, but no matter how hard he tried, the distance between them never changed. Somewhere in the void, the sound of turning wheels echoed. The man in the red suit appeared again, just as he had in Jin¡¯s dreams before. Seated in a wheelchair, his face remained indistinct, blurred beyond recognition. He opened his mouth, but no sound reached Jin. Only silence. As if realizing his words were lost, the man gestured toward Jin¡¯s pocket. Jin reached inside and felt something solid¡ªa familiar rectangle. His phone. He pulled it out and showed it to the man, who nodded with an approving smile and gave him a thumbs-up. "Ah!" A searing pain jolted Jin awake. His vision was hazy, but he could hear a crisp snapping sound. A sharp sting flared across his cheek, and the musty stench of mildew filled his nostrils, mingling with a faint floral scent. What the hell¡­? Jin forced his eyes open, the world slowly coming into focus. Kasumi was standing over him, her right palm raised. The moment she saw his eyes open, she froze, then awkwardly slapped herself in the face, whistled nonchalantly, and took a step back. Jin sat up, groaning. Beneath him was a cold straw mat. Iron bars lined the perimeter of the room, stone walls surrounding them. It was unmistakably a prison¡ªlikely the dungeon of a medieval castle. (They didn¡¯t kill me. They locked me up instead¡­ Does that mean I¡¯m useful to them? If TV dramas have taught me anything, it¡¯s that I¡¯m safe for now¡­ right?) He touched his burning cheek, the pain confirming his theory. Someone had been smacking him around. Jin narrowed his eyes at Kasumi. "Hey, Kasumi, my face hurts. Any idea why?" "Oh, no. No idea. Maybe¡­ maybe a venomous bug bit you?" "Uh-huh. Then tell me¡ªwhy were you sitting on me just now?" "I was¡­ worried about you." "And what about your hand just now?" "I was fanning you. In case you got too hot." "Then why did you slap me?" "Oh! Well¡­ I was afraid you¡¯d get cold." "So, in other words¡­ you were slapping me, weren¡¯t you?" "Hey?!" Seeing she was caught, Kasumi flashed a mischievous smile. Jin returned it with a bright, all-knowing grin. She clasped her hands behind her back, swaying slightly, blinking up at him with an innocent, almost sparkling expression. "Kasumi, I want to teach you a Chinese idiom today." "Oh? Which one?" "It¡¯s called ''A Kiss with Beauty.''" As he rolled up his sleeves, Kasumi took an instinctive step back. "I¡­ I don¡¯t think I want to learn Chinese anymore." "Oh, you¡¯re learning whether you like it or not." Jin lunged. Kasumi shrieked, laughing as she dodged around the tiny cell, a playful chase breaking out between them. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Finally, Jin tackled her to the ground and unleashed merciless tickles. She howled with laughter, writhing as he pinned her down. They collapsed onto the floor, panting. Jin¡¯s smile faltered as he stared at his hands. "Wait a second¡­ I can touch you?" That shouldn¡¯t be possible. Before now, his hand had passed right through her. But here, in this strange castle, he could feel her. Solid. Tangible. His breath hitched. "Could it be¡­? Am I already¡ª?!" If he could touch her now¡­ did that mean he had become a ghost too? Kasumi giggled, throwing her hands up playfully. "Maybe you¡¯re already a ghoooooost!" She dragged out the last word dramatically, making Jin jump. Seeing his reaction, she burst into laughter. "Relax. I¡¯m just teasing you. This place is different." She bounded over to the cell bars, tapping them with a finger. A crisp metallic clang echoed through the chamber. "This castle is special. I can touch things here. So, naturally, you can touch me too." She let out an exaggerated sigh. "Alas, I have to exist physically in this place. Which means¡­ I¡¯m stuck here with you!" Trapped together. What a cruel joke. They had searched every inch of the cell, tested every possible way to break free, but the walls refused to yield. They were prisoners in every sense of the word. Jin pulled out his phone, considering the most ridiculous course of action¡ªcalling the police. Even though reporting, "Our school turned into a castle," would likely get him laughed at¡­ or worse, institutionalized, it was worth a shot. Of course, just like in every horror movie, his phone had no signal. The little icon in the corner of the screen mocked him. Then, something unexpected happened. BEEP. A strange notification popped up. A dark blue screen filled his display, showing an old man with a white beard, clad in a blue suit and sunglasses. Bold letters scrolled across the top: ''Demon Summoning Program'' His heart pounded. A small red notification pulsed in the upper right corner. Next to the words ''Summon Mid-Tier Demon'', a tiny red dot gleamed with the number 1. Jin swallowed hard. (What¡­ the hell¡­ is this?) As the saying goes, curiosity kills the cat. Though why the cat, in particular, was chosen for this proverb remains unclear, the warning stands: excessive curiosity can be dangerous. A modern example? Suspicious links sent by so-called friends. Plenty of people had lost money falling for those traps. That¡¯s why Jin Kasuga had every intention of deleting the strange notification the moment he saw it. But human self-control is a fragile thing. For today¡¯s phone users, that little red dot on an app icon is irresistible. Eventually, he caved. Against his better judgment, Jin clicked on the so-called "Summon Mid-Tier Demon" list. Like a mobile game interface, a white screen popped up, displaying a square avatar. Brown hair tied in a ponytail, large expressive eyes, a playful teardrop mole¡ªwho else could it be but Kasumi? Her name was written clearly beneath the portrait. Kasumi peered over his shoulder, her interest piqued. "Oh? Is that me?" She reached out a translucent finger and poked her own avatar. A new screen appeared, revealing a stats list¡ªstrength, magic, endurance, speed, luck¡ªall marked with large Chinese characters followed by numbers. It looked exactly like a role-playing game. "Who the hell designed this bizarre software¡­ and why did it install itself on my phone?" Jin scowled. As a modern-day netizen, he despised unwanted downloads¡ªespecially ones disguised as harmless apps but buried deep in the system, impossible to remove. It was the digital equivalent of an invasive parasite. But then something else clicked in his mind. (No, wait¡­ Even if this is just some garbage mobile game¡­ why does it include Kasumi?) That was unsettling. He had never input her name anywhere, nor had he ever seen her in any kind of game before. Yet, here she was. Jin had been curious about Kasumi from the start. After all, no matter the circumstances, being haunted by a ghost this cute was bound to make anyone ask questions. The day after he first encountered her, he had looked up her name. It belonged to a promising artistic gymnast who had died in an accident. The news article painted a dramatic picture of Kasumi¡¯s potential¡ªsome even claimed she had the ability to become a world champion. But because artistic gymnastics wasn¡¯t a mainstream sport, her death didn¡¯t cause much of a stir. People had simply said, "What a shame," before moving on to their games, shows, and work. To most, the death of a stranger was nothing more than a passing inconvenience. A dead athlete who "could have" been a world champion had no business appearing in a random game. It served no marketing purpose, nor would it draw in players through nostalgia. So why was she here? More importantly¡­ why did this app download itself the moment they were imprisoned? Jin shook his head. "Alright, let¡¯s take a step back and sort things out." He had no idea what to do, but in novels and anime, the protagonist always sat down to organize information in moments like these. They¡¯d smirk mysteriously, cross their arms, and then¡ªlike magic¡ªcome up with a solution. Jin decided to follow the trope. He sat down on the cold stone floor, immediately regretting it as the chill seeped through his pants. The damp, mossy scent of the prison was anything but refreshing¡ªit only made him feel worse. "Ugh. I¡¯ve got nothing." Of course, he wasn¡¯t some genius strategist. He was just a high schooler. How was he supposed to mastermind an escape from a medieval dungeon? "Would be nice if someone came to jailbreak us¡­" Jin muttered under his breath. "That¡¯s the classic setup, right? The hero is trapped, and then¡ªboom¡ªan ally appears to save the day." He sighed dramatically. "If someone rescues me now, I¡¯ll dedicate myself to them. Body and soul." Kasumi snorted. "Even if you did, who¡¯d want you?" "What about you? Would you pledge yourself to me?" "Absolutely not." "Then don¡¯t mock me!" They laughed, making light of their predicament. But then¡ª A loud commotion erupted from the hall outside. Jin¡¯s breath caught. (Is someone¡­ fighting out there?) He scrambled to his feet, pressing against the bars. His view was limited, but his hearing seemed sharper now, as if his body was hyper-focused on the chaos. The sounds of battle were unmistakable. Clashing metal. Grunts of exertion. Even the frantic neighing of a horse¡ª (A horse? In a prison?) Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the fighting stopped. "Nice work! You¡¯re new, but you¡¯re catching on quick!" a high-pitched voice praised. "The hell is this place?!" a rough male voice demanded. "Less talking, more running," a third voice¡ªcalmer, more composed¡ªurged. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing closer. Moments later, three figures dashed past Jin¡¯s cell. The first was a young man clad in black, wearing a white ball mask. His dark coat billowed behind him as he moved with sharp agility. The second was a blonde student in a Showjin Academy uniform¡ªSakamoto Ryuji. Jin recognized him immediately. The guy was infamous at school for being a troublemaker. And the third¡­ Jin¡¯s brain short-circuited for a moment. A small, cat-like creature ran alongside them. Barely a meter tall, it looked like a plush mascot come to life. (A cat demon?! Is that seriously a cat demon?!?) The three escapees were in too much of a hurry to notice him. "Hey! HEY!!" Jin yelled, arms stretching through the bars. "Wait! Get me out of here too!" Desperation overpowered his dignity. Forget the dramatic vow of loyalty¡ªright now, freedom was all that mattered. The masked boy skidded to a stop. Ryuji turned, blinking in recognition. "Oh, hey! You¡¯re locked up too?! Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll get you¡ª" "No!" the cat interrupted sharply. "Don¡¯t waste your time! That guy¡¯s just a cognitive version of someone the castle recognizes! He¡¯s not real!" Jin¡¯s blood ran cold. "Excuse me, WHAT?!" "Just ignore him! We need to go before reinforcements show up!" the cat barked. "But¡ª" "No buts! Move it!" "Oh, okay, okay!" The moment the sound of approaching knights filled the corridor, Ryuji abandoned hesitation and bolted after his companions. Jin watched in horror as the trio disappeared down the hallway. "NO! Don¡¯t leave me here!" He reached out desperately, but his arms, bound by reality, could not stretch far enough. The footsteps of the escapees faded. The shouts of the knights grew louder. Jin swallowed hard. (This is bad. This is REALLY bad.) Chapter 5 Chapter 5 The temporary noise faded, and the underground prison returned to silence. Jin looked at Kasumi, and she looked back at him. They both saw the same helplessness in each other''s eyes. "They''re gone." "Yeah. They left." Confirming the obvious was pointless, yet they did it anyway. "Fuck! Isn¡¯t this too cold-blooded?!" Jin swore, his frustration boiling over. Kasumi chuckled dryly. "What, did you think she¡¯d save you just because you said you wanted to marry her?" "What the hell? Maybe they left us here because you refused to throw yourself at someone else!" "Oh? So in your twisted logic, sacrificing an innocent girl is fair as long as it gets you out of here?" "If it¡¯s not the girl, then what¡ªme? I¡¯m alive, for God¡¯s sake! You¡¯re already dead!" "Rude! That¡¯s discrimination, young man! I¡¯ll sue you and make you bankrupt." Even in a cell, facing an uncertain fate, they couldn¡¯t stop bickering. It was their way of coping. Jin exhaled sharply and slumped against the cold wall. "Where the hell even is this place? What¡¯s going on... I just want to go home." The frustration clawed at him. No escape plan, no explanation¡ªjust a void of uncertainty. He felt like collapsing under the weight of it all. (If I had a signal, I could call for help. Hell, I¡¯d settle for ordering takeout right now... No signal¡ªwait. Signal?) A jolt of realization shot through him. There was no signal here. He had checked before. So what was that sudden buzzing sound in the hall earlier? His mind raced back to his recurring dreams of a man in a red wheelchair. The strange, cryptic text messages about the end of the world... Like a drowning man grasping at a straw, he yanked out his phone and opened his messages. Jin rarely paid attention to spam texts. He usually deleted them without a second glance. That¡¯s why he hadn¡¯t noticed that his inbox had more messages than usual. Two messages stood out, both from the early hours of yesterday morning. Something about a forced app download. But for some reason, the text was littered with blacked-out symbols¡ª¨~¨~¡ªmaking it barely legible. The second message? Sent just thirty minutes ago. Right when he was captured in the hall. "The world has fallen into chaos. Can we lend the seeds of freedom to those in prison?" Jin frowned at the screen. "What kind of riddle bullshit is this?" he muttered, wanting to throw his phone at a wall. Before he could think too much, a window popped up on his screen. "Excuse me, do you want to escape from this prison?" Below were two options: Yes and No. Jin stared, bewildered. (Is this a joke? Did someone hack my phone? Did they install spyware on me?) Still, he pressed Yes. Because at this point, what did he have to lose? "We have received your [¨~¨~] request. Data is being transferred to the Demon Summoning Program. 3...2...1...completed. The wings of freedom have been loaded. Please use them freely." The text flashed and vanished. His inbox? Empty. No trace of the messages. It was as if none of it had happened. "The hell? Am I supposed to summon a devil now?" Jin sighed. He didn¡¯t understand what was happening, but there wasn¡¯t much else he could do. And then¡ª Something changed. Before, his demon list had only one name: Kasumi. But now, another appeared¡ªa girl with wine-red hair, dressed in blue, with transparent, dragonfly-like wings. Pixie? Jin read the name out loud. A burst of blue-green flame ignited before him, vanishing in an instant like a magician¡¯s trick. And then, right where the fire had been, a tiny girl hovered, barely the size of two fists. Her wine-red hair shimmered under the dim light, her transparent wings fluttering rapidly. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Eh? I was summoned?" She blinked, staring at Jin as if trying to make sense of reality. Then she sighed, shook her head, and spread her tiny arms. "Man, it¡¯d be nice if the summoner was handsome." Kasumi burst out laughing. "Haha! I thought the same thing!" Jin groaned. "Not the time." Kasumi reached out to touch Pixie, but the little creature flitted higher, out of reach. "Don¡¯t touch me! My scales will fall off!" Then she wrinkled her nose and gagged. "Ugh, this place stinks! Why are you living in a dump?" "I don¡¯t live here! I¡¯m trapped here!" Jin snapped. "Can you get us out or what?" Pixie eyed him, then glanced at the cell. "You sure you don¡¯t live here? Your house won¡¯t be this gross when you get out, right?" "Of course not!" "Hmm... fine." With a blur of motion too fast for Jin to track, Pixie zipped through the bars and outside the cell. She examined the heavy padlock, then threw a series of tiny punches and kicks at it. The clanging sounds echoed in the cellblock. After a moment, she blew on her fists and pouted. "Yeah, no. This thing isn¡¯t breaking." Jin¡¯s eye twitched. "Right. Uh... can you at least check if there¡¯s a key somewhere?" He wasn¡¯t surprised she couldn¡¯t brute-force the lock. Strength correlated with size, and Pixie was tiny. He, a full-grown man, couldn¡¯t open it, so expecting a fairy to was just wishful thinking. But if there was a padlock, logic dictated there had to be a key. Pixie rolled her eyes. "Ugh, fine. But only because I hate this place." She flitted away, wings buzzing. Jin exhaled, watching her go. Summoned creatures like Pixie weren¡¯t exactly obedient. They did whatever they wanted. If he had tried ordering her, she might¡¯ve just laughed and left. But right now, their goals aligned. She wanted out as much as he did. That was good enough. Jin clenched his fists, watching as Pixie disappeared into the darkness beyond the cell. Maybe...they had a chance.
The silence persisted as Jin and Kasumi merely waited for what like so very long for something to happen...to change... Just when the silence became unbearable, a loud clanking noise broke the tension. Pixie was struggling to drag an enormous key ring toward them, inch by inch. The keys were nearly as big as she was, and she had to move them little by little. As soon as they reached Jin¡¯s arm¡¯s length, he grabbed them instantly. The keys! With these, they could escape! Pixie, however, looked utterly drained. "Next time...I hope...you¡¯ll call me for something easier!" The little fairy was panting. If not for her pride, she would have started cursing. Then, with a frustrated huff, she vanished into a ball of blue-gray flame, disappearing before Jin¡¯s eyes. Just as he was wondering why she had vanished so suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit him. His strength drained away, and his vision darkened as if he were suffering from heatstroke. He reached out blindly¡ªand his hands grasped the cold metal of the prison bars. (Don¡¯t guys usually end up grabbing a girl¡¯s chest in these kinds of moments?!) Jin groaned inwardly at how unreliable anime had made him. He took a deep breath, trying to pull himself together. He had seen similar scenarios in games before. Summoning Pixie must have drained his energy. Looks like I¡¯ll need to test this later. But first¡ª "Okay, we have the key. Let¡¯s get out of here!" Jin braced himself against the bars and stood up, though his mind still felt sluggish. His body was fine, but his brain was exhausted, struggling to keep up. Kasumi noticed his condition and stepped closer, worry in her eyes. "Are you okay? Here, lean on me." She slipped under his arm and helped support his weight. For a moment, all Jin could notice was a soft, elegant fragrance¡ªa welcome contrast to the prison¡¯s stench. His nose twitched instinctively. Kasumi caught the movement and immediately turned red. "Stop sniffing! Let¡¯s go!" Fortunately, the trio who had escaped earlier had drawn all the guards away. The path was clear. Kasumi half-dragged Jin forward, and together, they made their way toward freedom. They climbed the winding stairs and finally reached the hall. As soon as they arrived, Kasumi recognized where they were. "Hey! Have you found the intruder?!" "We can¡¯t let Lord Kamoshida get angry! Send more troops!" "Damn thief actually escaped from prison..." Knights were barking orders at each other, their voices sharp with frustration. They weren¡¯t even trying to be discreet, probably because they believed this was a completely secure area. No one would be eavesdropping. Kasumi felt a silent gratitude toward the trio who had escaped before them. Thanks to them drawing the guards¡¯ attention, she and Jin had been able to slip away unnoticed. They reached what should have been the school gate. Suddenly, their surroundings shimmered. A soft pink glow clouded their vision. The next moment, Jin felt the weight on his shoulders vanish¡ª Thud! Jin collapsed to the ground, hard. The shock of pain jolted him back to reality. He clutched his forehead, groaning. "Are you okay?!" Kasumi rushed toward him. But the moment she tried to touch him¡ªher hands passed straight through. She gasped. "I¡¯m... back to normal?!" Jin gritted his teeth through the pain and mumbled, "Looks like... we made it out." Then, after a pause, he added, "Would¡¯ve been better if I hadn¡¯t face-planted." Everything had returned to normal. If someone walked through Shujin Academy now, they¡¯d see nothing out of the ordinary¡ªjust a modern school building, student club banners, a lazy security guard at the entrance, and well-maintained brick pathways lined with green plants. The castle, the knights, everything... it had all vanished like a dream. In Chinese, there¡¯s an idiom for this¡ªa dream of yellow millet. (Was it all an illusion?) Jin pulled out his phone. Hours had passed. It was already noon. And yet... the demon summoning app was still there. He clicked on the list. Kasumi Yoshizawa and Pixie¡¯s names were both still present. This wasn¡¯t a dream. Jin shook his head. He was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. He could deal with everything else later. Too drained to even take the bus home, he found a small restaurant, ordered a meal, inhaled it, and immediately passed out on the table. In his dream, he was surrounded by blue light. The setting resembled... an elevator? No, more like a luxurious car¡¯s interior. The sensation was strange, almost like being trapped¡ª Wait. Trapped?! Panic shot through him as he realized this might be another prison. He jolted awake, heart pounding. Someone was shaking his shoulder. At first, he thought it was Kasumi¡ªbut then he remembered. She had reverted to ghost form. That meant¡ª His mind, sluggish moments ago, sharpened instantly. That nap had done him some good. The person shaking him was a restaurant clerk. "Sir, if you¡¯ve finished eating, you might want to go home to sleep," she said with an awkward smile. Jin¡¯s face turned red. He quickly apologized, rubbing his eyes. Glancing at his phone, he realized he had been out for two hours. And there was a new message. It was from the doctor conducting the drug trial he had inquired about earlier. He had asked if she had any trials happening today. Her response: You are welcome anytime. Chapter 6 Chapter 6 "You''re not looking very good today." Shikenjaya, Takemi Internal Medicine Clinic. The lazy female doctor stated Jin¡¯s condition in an emotionless tone. His mental state wasn¡¯t just bad¡ªit was on the verge of collapse. No one walks out of a prison unscathed. "Oh, no matter how many times I see it, I still think Doctor Takemi is so¡­ curious and wonderful¡­" Kasumi, now back in her ghostly form, let out a dramatic sigh. Jin, still drained, responded softly, "Well, her name is Takemiya, after all¡­" Takemi Internal Medicine Clinic was a small community hospital tucked away in Shikenjaya. But unlike most clinics, this one had a doctor who looked nothing like a doctor. Dr. Takemi was a woman. That, in itself, wasn¡¯t unusual¡ªfemale doctors were common. But a doctor who dressed like the lead singer of a heavy metal band? Now that was something else. It was like walking into a maid caf¨¦ expecting cute, frilly-dressed girls, only to find a muscular, bearded man in full maid attire. No rule said maids had to be women, but you¡¯d still do a double take. The only thing remotely ¡°doctor-like¡± about Dr. Takemi was her white coat. Everything else screamed rock star. She had a dark blue bob, a touch of smoky makeup at the corners of her eyes, and a leather collar with metal rivets around her neck. A short black dress, cinched with a red rivet belt, exposed her long, pale legs. At the end of them were a pair of black lace-up high heels¡ªthe contrast between dark leather and fair skin making her stand out even more. And during her breaks? She swapped the lab coat for a leather jacket. If you saw her anywhere but the clinic, you''d think she was a famous underground musician. As for how Jin got involved with her? It was a matter of survival. Jin needed money. Takemi needed a drug tester. One day, Jin came in sick but couldn¡¯t afford the medicine. Takemi, unfazed, offered him a deal¡ªtest her experimental drugs to cover the cost. And just like that, they had an understanding. Finding the right drug testers wasn¡¯t easy. It was like a girl filling her wardrobe with clothes but never finding the perfect outfit. There were plenty of willing test subjects, but every drug needed a specific type of person. For example, you couldn¡¯t test children¡¯s cold medicine on adults¡ªit wouldn¡¯t yield useful results. Similarly, if you were developing medicine for smokers, you needed actual smokers. Takemi needed young test subjects. The younger, the better. If it weren¡¯t for legal restrictions, she¡¯d probably recruit kids as young as eight or nine since the medicine she was developing was for children. Her office had no resemblance to a doctor¡¯s clinic. It looked more like a mad scientist¡¯s lab. A computer sat in the middle of a cluttered desk, surrounded by glass vials filled with unidentifiable substances. Medicine cabinets lined the walls, and documents were scattered within easy reach. Takemi lounged in her swivel chair, legs crossed, absentmindedly spinning a clipboard in her fingers. "So, what did you do today?" She pinched Jin¡¯s arm absentmindedly, noting that his physical health was fine. But his bloodshot eyes, pale lips, and exhausted demeanor told a different story¡ªhis stress levels were through the roof. Something was definitely wrong. "You wouldn¡¯t believe me even if I told you." "How do you know if you don¡¯t tell me?" Without looking up, Takemi jotted down notes on his medical record. "I went to a castle today. Got beaten with shields by a bunch of knights and thrown into prison." "That¡¯s¡­ not an easy day." She responded lazily. Did she believe him? Not in the slightest. Why would she? To her, this was just another case of a kid pulling too many all-nighters playing video games. Judging by his state, he had probably been up for several nights in a row. "Doctor¡¯s orders: play fewer games and don¡¯t stay up late. You¡¯re my precious little test subject, and I¡¯d be very troubled if you collapsed on me." Jin shrugged. You really don¡¯t believe me¡­ Not that he blamed her. If someone else had told him this story, he wouldn¡¯t have believed it either. "Anyway, drink this first." Takemi handed him a cup of something¡­ unidentifiable. Ever seen those nightmarish "dark cuisine" dishes in anime? Imagine that, but in liquid form. The substance inside was a deep purple, glistening like crystal. When Jin swirled the glass slightly, the liquid clung to the sides in an unsettling way. "...Are you sure this is safe?" Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. He asked, as he always did. "Do you have accidental death insurance?" Takemi asked, as she always did. "No." "Well, then. I don¡¯t even have a financial incentive to kill you." "...That logic is terrifying. And even if I did have insurance, I couldn¡¯t name you as the beneficiary!" Despite his protests, Jin accepted his fate. He shrugged off his coat, revealing a lean, well-toned torso¡ªa result of juggling multiple part-time jobs. Takemi, still talking, began attaching various sensors to his body. The patches were connected to wires that would transmit real-time data on his body''s reactions. Judging by how smoothly this process went, it was clear Jin had been here many times before. Once everything was set, he picked up the cup without another word and downed its contents in one gulp. Then, he lay back on the flat bed nearby. Experience told him that while Takemi¡¯s concoctions weren¡¯t deadly, they often had¡­ unpredictable side effects. For example, one of her previous experiments had given him a horrendous stomach odor. How bad was it? Imagine opening ten cans of rotten herring, then tossing a grenade into them. The resulting explosion of stench would trigger every survival instinct in your body. For the record, that was the only time Takemi herself had to flee the room to escape her own creation. This time, however, the medicine didn¡¯t seem to have any immediate effect. Lying on the bed, Jin felt no discomfort. Just¡­ exhaustion. A deep, overwhelming drowsiness. His eyelids grew heavy. And in no time at all, he was out. This time, there were no visions of a man in a red wheelchair. No strange blue-lit rooms. Just darkness.
There¡¯s a saying that a person only needs four hours of deep sleep a day to fully recover from the day¡¯s exhaustion. The key isn¡¯t the four hours¡ªit¡¯s the deep sleep. It¡¯s said that Leonardo da Vinci followed an even more extreme sleep schedule, working for four hours and then resting for just fifteen minutes. If you do the math, that means he only slept for about an hour and a half each day. Efficient sleep has a greater restorative effect. That¡¯s why some people, after a physically exhausting day, find themselves sleeping soundly and waking up refreshed, their fatigue completely gone. Jin had just experienced this firsthand. When he woke up, he stretched, listening to the satisfying cracks of his joints. It was refreshing. The various patches attached to his body had already been removed by Takemi, sparing him from the hassle of peeling off wires. The doctor wasn¡¯t in the room¡ªprobably outside at the counter. When she had nothing else to do, she would sit there, scribbling incomprehensible medical formulas into her notebook while waiting for the next patient. Community doctors typically serve the same familiar faces, and some believe that, unlike those in large hospitals, they don¡¯t need to be overly professional¡ªjust approachable. Takemi proved that theory wrong. With her cold, indifferent demeanor and habit of prescribing strange yet highly effective medications from obscure brands, she unsettled many of her patients. The fact that she even mixed medicines herself didn¡¯t help her reputation. Despite the undeniable results, skepticism lingered. This was why Takemi Internal Medicine was always deserted¡ªwhich was great for Jin. If this clinic were more popular, wouldn¡¯t that mean fewer job opportunities for him? Since she wasn¡¯t around, Jin didn¡¯t linger. He grabbed his neatly folded shirt and coat from the bedside and put them on. Across the room, Kasumi sat perched on Takemi¡¯s chair, legs crossed, watching him with an unreadable expression. "...What are you looking at?" "..." "...Uh, did I do something?" People say there¡¯s a generation gap every three years, but honestly, gender alone was enough to create a gulf of misunderstanding between boys and girls at this age. "Hey¡ªI thought you liked this look!" Kasumi finally dropped the act, her youthful energy bubbling to the surface as she smirked. "Not a chance," Jin muttered, buttoning up his shirt and checking the time. It was nearly six in the evening. Kasumi hopped up from the chair, grinning as she followed him outside. Now that he thought about it, he had spent the entire day sleeping. He hadn¡¯t worked, hadn¡¯t earned a yen. The thought gnawed at him. What was he going to do in the future? Even though he was Chinese, without a passport, going back home wasn¡¯t an option. Staying in Japan, what kind of work could he even find? People discriminated against foreigners¡ªwould he even be able to afford food? Rent? Could he ever hope to get married? What about his children¡¯s education? There was a study that claimed the biggest difference between Chinese and Westerners lay in their mindset. Chinese people, it said, always thought in terms of stability. Their lives could be average, even unremarkable, but they needed to at least see a clear path to a secure future. That meant they avoided challenges, preferring a steady, predictable life over risky adventures. Jin was exactly like that. Even though he was still a high school student (technically on leave), he was already worrying about the distant future. The only way to quiet his thoughts was to move. Keep busy. Escape from the anxiety by filling his schedule with anything that kept his mind from spiraling. So, he left. As he stepped out, he saw a student from Shujin Academy talking to Takemi at the counter. The guy had black, curly hair and wore wide-rimmed glasses. What stood out, though, was his backpack¡ªbecause poking its head out of the zipper and lounging on his shoulder was a sleek black cat. Jin blinked. "...Well look who''s up and ready to start the day." The evil doctor teased. Takemi shifted her gaze from the curly-haired boy to Jin. Jin yawned, not bothering to hide it, and asked, "Today''s payment?" Wordlessly, Takemi picked up an envelope from the counter and tossed it to him. "I already deducted your accommodation fee." "How stingy, doctor¡­" Despite his grumbling, Jin snatched the envelope like a robber grabbing a cash bag. "Woo! Cat! So cute!" Kasumi had zero interest in money but immediate interest in the cat. She darted over, reaching out to pet it. And then¡ª "Um?!" A peculiar voice rang out. It was high-pitched, almost squeaky, and yet, Jin knew it didn¡¯t belong to Takemi, Agnes, or himself. It didn¡¯t belong to the curly-haired guy either. That left¡­ The cat? Jin¡¯s body stiffened. A famous prosecutor once said: When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. There were five beings in this room. Kasumi wasn¡¯t speaking. Agnes wasn¡¯t speaking. He wasn¡¯t speaking. The guy with glasses wasn¡¯t speaking. That meant¡­ (This cat can talk?!) Jin had always been able to see things others couldn¡¯t¡ªAgnes, for example. So, maybe seeing a talking cat wasn¡¯t that strange? Was it a Nekomata? A cat spirit? Could he see its tail? Jin glanced at the curly-haired student, but the guy looked calm. He either hadn¡¯t heard the cat speak¡­ or he was used to it. Jin, deciding to play it cool, muttered, "No, I just think this cat is pretty." "Hey! I''m not a cat! Really, these people have no vision¡­" Yep. The cat definitely just talked. "Hey, the cat is talking!" Kasumi, clearly able to hear it too, gasped in excitement. Jin, however, forced himself to stay composed. He had no idea who this curly-haired student was, what was happening, or what this cat actually was. Best not to act rashly. What if this so-called cat was dangerous? And, as selfish as it sounded, Jin would rather someone else be the test subject for whatever supernatural nonsense was going on. If this guy had somehow provoked the cat demon, he should deal with it. Jin wasn¡¯t an exorcist. He didn¡¯t know Taoist magic. Not his problem. "...Why?" The boy with glasses suddenly spoke, his voice calm. Jin frowned. "Have we met before?" The guy nodded slightly. "Yes. In Leblanc this morning." Jin snapped his fingers. "Ah! It¡¯s you!" The other student gave a small nod. "You''re also a student at Shujin Academy?" At the mention of Shujin, a wave of irritation hit Jin. He couldn¡¯t help but remember being thrown into prison just hours ago. And Sakamoto Ryuji leaving him behind. His mood soured, but he still extended a hand. "Yeah. Name¡¯s Jin." The boy adjusted his glasses and shook his hand. "Amamiya Ren. Pleased to meet you." Jin hesitated. "...Amamiya? Amamiya¡­ Ren?" That name sounded familiar. And then, it clicked. "Wait¡ªyou''re that transfer student!" A beat. "The one with ex¡ª" Jin stopped himself. Well this is awkward.