"Senior, is this the strength of the person you mentioned?"
Nanami Kento looked toward Gojo Satoru with a hint of unease. But Gojo didn't respond right away—instead, he wore a thoughtful expression.
The attack Shiro Sakamaki had displayed earlier was fundamentally different from the lightning-based techniques he'd used before. From Gojo's perspective, it resembled the Zenin clan's Shadow Technique—except this one had clearly sacrificed versatility for sheer offensive power. The evidence was right in front of them: everything in the room had been sliced with such precision that the cuts looked like they'd been made by a surgical laser. But what disturbed Gojo the most was the speed. Even his Six Eyes barely registered the moment of impact.
Shinomiya Un'yō's face was deathly pale. Only now did it dawn on him just how close he'd come to death.
"Move! Move away! Someone get me out of here! I'm not staying in the same building as that monster!"
Gojo smirked. "Wouldn't it have been smarter to say that earlier? Nanami, help him pack."
---
Back in his room, Shiro Sakamaki took a sip of tea. His long shadow slowly coiled back toward his feet like a living serpent. He had to admit—this ability was terrifyingly practical. If he were to become an assassin, no one on his level could stop him. Hell, even without full intel, most wouldn't know where the attack was coming from.
His shadow-based strikes could reach anywhere—as long as a shadow was present and his spiritual energy was strong enough to sustain the range.
Just then, Eriri stepped out of the bathroom, towel in hand, cheeks flushed red. Shiro glanced over and immediately felt his heart skip. The steamy glow on her face, coupled with her signature blonde hair damp and tousled, made it hard to look away.
Trying to stay composed, she sat down to dry her hair, but Shiro stepped forward and gently took the dryer from her.
"I'll help."
She didn't resist. With a soft "mm," she closed her eyes, letting him blow-dry her hair in silence. Her golden strands, silky and smooth, slid between his fingers. From his angle, he couldn't help but notice the delicate dip of her collarbone and… he quickly shook the thought out of his head. Control yourself.
After he finished, Shiro took his own shower and returned in loose pajamas. Eriri, meanwhile, had already cocooned herself inside a thick blanket, eyeing him warily—but not without a hint of anticipation.
He chuckled inwardly. She acts so guarded when awake, but clings like a kitten in her sleep.
He let it be. Things like this should happen naturally.
---
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit building just outside Totsuki Resort, a group of eerie figures convened in secret. Some were draped in long black cloaks, others bore tribal tattoos or wore grotesque masks. It looked like a masquerade from hell.
Except for the corpse lying on the floor, blood still seeping beneath it.
A low, gravelly voice broke the silence.
"Are you sure the target is still inside the resort?"
A gentlemanly figure stepped forward, a black crow landing on his arm with a shriek. The bird cawed, took flight, circled once, and landed again—this time on the dead man, pecking at the remains.
"The location changed briefly for unknown reasons," the man said. "But yes—the target remains within Totsuki Resort."
The masked leader nodded. "Good. We move at two o'clock sharp."
"Black Crow, continue surveillance. Any movement—report immediately."
The gentleman bowed, tipped his hat, and vanished into the dark corridor.
After dismissing the rest, one figure remained—a man cloaked in black robes, flanked by several curse spirits.
"Kuroda Renji, what is it now?" the leader asked flatly.
"The one who destroyed my ghost baby last time… he's here too."
"Business first. Don't let personal grudges jeopardize the mission."
Kuroda Renji smirked. "The Bureau agent from last time isn't here now. I've confirmed it. This time, he dies."
The leader pondered, then nodded.
"Fine. You strike first. But wait for my signal to proceed."
Kuroda Renji grinned wickedly and disappeared.
---
Night fell over Totsuki Resort. The moonlight painted the palace white in silence.
Shiro Sakamaki's eyes snapped open in bed. A subtle tingle of danger ran down his spine—his instincts screaming. He could sense them. Two cursed users were scaling the glass facade outside his window.
He sighed softly and turned to glance at Eriri.
She had, at some point, wrapped herself around his arm, breathing softly in sleep. Earlier she was suspicious and wary, now… she was stuck to him like glue. He shook his head with a faint smile.
Then, his shadow spread like spilled ink, and he sank into it silently.
Outside, Kuroda Renji was ascending with the help of a puppet-like corpse, when he noticed something unusual—the moonlight cast a strange shadow across the glass wall.
It started as a dot, then spread outward like black ink on parchment. It blocked his path—solid and cold.
His gut twisted. Could it be… him?!
Suddenly, the shadow churned violently, and Shiro Sakamaki emerged from the darkness like a phantom.
"You're after the wrong person," Shiro said flatly. "Leave now, and I'll forget this happened."
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