Edward listened to the report while stifling a yawn. The content itself wasn't interesting in the least, yet it wasn't something he could skip. After all, he had been absent from the company for quite a while—listening to these updates was simply part of the job.
Besides, he had been keeping an eye on the progress of Ghost Films all this time. He knew the industry, he knew the company, and this company had been built from his own painstaking effort; naturally, he valued it deeply.
Now, hearing everyone's updates, Edward had a clearer picture of how things had been moving. The company had been developing well lately, finally proving that it wouldn't collapse just because he wasn't around.
This eased him quite a bit. He had been genuinely worried: What if these people couldn't handle things? Would everything end up falling onto me again?
If Ghost Films really became nothing more than his personal plaything… that would be a failure of business. A real, humiliating failure.
A proper large-scale company should be able to operate smoothly with or without the boss. If the business crumbled the moment the boss stepped away, then it clearly wasn't qualified to be a real company at all.
"Very good. Keep it up. If anything comes up, inform me again," Edward said with satisfaction, not adding anything further.
He turned and left—there were still other matters waiting for him.
Speaking of which, ever since Kayako and her son returned home, Edward hadn't seen her in a while. Meanwhile, Kayako's younger sister had been happily busy with her own work these days. Edward planned to summon Kayako back, check on her, and see how she and Toshio had been getting along.
Once he arrived at his office, Edward sent Zoroark out and called for Kayako.
She appeared instantly—still pale, with long black hair draping down like a curtain and she brought Toshio with her. Toshio looked noticeably more obedient than before. Kayako looked the same as always… except for one detail:
She was holding a man's head in her hand.
"What—what is going on?" Edward nearly jumped backward. He might film horror movies, but that didn't mean he was immune to being startled by something like that.
"This idiot asked for it," Kayako said with annoyance. "He broke into my house causing trouble, and even demanded that I 'give birth to his child.'"
Edward stared at the severed head in silence.
This guy… his courage wasn't just large, it was suicidal. To actually speak to Kayako like that? He must have truly believed himself immortal.
Still, Edward didn't care about people whose brains were clearly filled with worms. Instead, he asked Kayako about how things had been for her and Toshio.
Kayako happily recounted their time after returning home.
And so her story unfolded:
…
At the end of a dim hallway, the old wooden floor let out long, painful creaks. A flickering lightbulb swayed overhead, stretching the shadows across the walls into warped, twisted shapes.
This was the birthplace of the curse—
The Saeki House.
Kayako stood silently at the top of the stairs. Her gaze pierced the darkness, falling onto the small figure in the living room where Toshio sat curled up on the sofa, clutching a worn toy in his hands, though his eyes drifted toward the window again and again.
He knew his mother was watching him.
Yet he didn't dare look back.
Kayako didn't speak. She simply descended the stairs. Her footsteps were soft, almost soundless, but Toshio felt her presence like a cold, invisible hand tightening around his throat. His fingers clenched the toy so hard that his knuckles turned white.
"Toshio."
Her voice was nearly a whisper, but it made him tremble.
Toshio had never really been a "good" child.
In other households, a child might be scolded for being naughty. But in the Saeki house, the definition of "naughty" was far more ambiguous. Kayako never clearly told him what he was allowed to do or not do. Her eyes, her silence, and the rare smiles she showed were enough for Toshio to understand—
There were lines he must never cross.
But Toshio crossed them anyway.
It began with small pranks, jumping out at a neighbor's daughter just as she passed by, grinning strangely; making footsteps echo through the hallway late at night, nearly causing his father to fall down the stairs. When Kayako found out, she didn't scold him. She only looked at him.
No punishment. No anger.
That made Toshio bolder.
Until one day… he slipped into the neighbor's house.
He didn't know why he did it. Perhaps he wanted to prove he could escape his mother's control. Or maybe he simply wanted to see the terrified face of the uncle who always looked at him with disgust.
He hid behind the curtains as the man came home and turned on the light. Then—
Toshio jumped out with a sharp, eerie laugh.
The scream the man let out cut the night clean open.
Toshio remembered running home, remembered the crunch of fallen leaves under his feet and the pounding of his heartbeat. When he opened the door, Kayako stood in the entryway, holding a pair of slippers. She looked at him calmly, then crouched down and helped him remove his shoes.
"Toshio," she murmured.
He lowered his head, too afraid to meet her eyes.
Kayako stood, placed a hand on his head, and stroked his hair gently. Her touch was soft—but Toshio felt ice spreading through his bones.
"You've disappointed me," she said.
In that moment, Toshio didn't know if he should cry or laugh. He thought his mother would beat him like his father did, or shout at him. But Kayako did nothing of the sort—she simply sighed and turned to walk up the stairs.
Toshio watched her figure melt into the shadows.
Kayako didn't punish him… not in any ordinary sense.
Instead, she began "teaching" him more often.
Every night, she called him to the living room. She sat on the sofa with a book in her hand, motioned for him to sit beside her, and read in a soft, drifting voice. Her tone was so gentle it could lull anyone to sleep—yet Toshio didn't dare blink too slowly. If he showed even the slightest hint of distraction, Kayako would stop reading.
And look at him with those pitch-black eyes.
That gaze chilled him to the marrow.
Then there were the "games." Kayako taught Toshio how to move silently, how to walk on tiptoe like a cat, how to control his breathing, how to hide his shadow within the darkness. She called these lessons "the required skills of a good child."
Gradually, Toshio understood.
Kayako wanted to mold him into a perfect tool—
A puppet who could silently carry out her will.
But Toshio wasn't completely obedient.
He still slipped out occasionally. He still played pranks—maybe out of rebellion, maybe out of fear. Because deep down, he believed—
if he didn't make his mother angry once in a while, she would do something even worse.
Until the day he was caught red-handed.
He thought he'd hidden perfectly.
He sneaked out while Kayako was cooking. Tonight's target was the girl next door—the one who always looked at him with disgust. He wanted to scare her again, to prove he still had freedom.
He hid in a shrub, holding his breath.
Then he saw Kayako.
She stood outside the wall, still wearing her apron, a fruit knife in hand. Her eyes pierced straight through the leaves and locked onto Toshio.
His heart nearly stopped.
He turned to flee—but Kayako moved faster. She slipped through the wall soundlessly and appeared before him, gripping his wrist. The knife's tip hovered dangerously close—
But Kayako froze.
She stared at her own hand, horrified.
She realized the curse, was clouding her mind again.
This couldn't continue.
She had to return.
She had to go back to Edward's side.
If she didn't, she would once again become the monster controlled by the curse. Even if the hatred originated from her… she could no longer control it.
Toshio thought he was going to die.
But Kayako didn't harm him.
She simply pulled him back home.
She didn't hit him. She didn't yell.
She closed the door quietly, sat on the sofa, and motioned for him to sit.
Toshio trembled violently. He expected the worst punishment imaginable.
Instead, Kayako opened a drawer and handed him a photo.
A warm, happy family photo.
A young Kayako holding infant Toshio, smiling softly.
"Do you remember?" she whispered.
Toshio froze. He remembered the photo—but not the feeling of being held by his mother.
Kayako stood, walked to him, and—
She hugged him.
Toshio stiffened.
Her embrace was warm. Gentle. Her arms tightened around him as though she wanted to merge him into her body. Her shoulders trembled.
She was crying.
"What have I done…?" she whispered, voice thick with sorrow. "I only wanted you to be a good child… Why must you make me so disappointed…?"
Toshio's tears spilled instantly.
He had never imagined his mother capable of crying. In his memory, she was always calm, restrained, terrifying—but never fragile.
"I'm sorry…" he sobbed. "I won't do it again…"
Kayako released him, cupped his face, and wiped his tears with her cold fingers.
"Really?"
Toshio nodded hard.
Kayako smiled—a real, gentle smile then walked back to the kitchen.
"Dinner is getting cold," she said.
That night, Toshio lay awake for a long time.
He replayed her embrace, her tears, that gentle smile. He remembered moments from early childhood—his mother teaching him to tie shoelaces, staying up all night when he was sick. Even the "frightening" lessons she gave him… maybe they carried a twisted form of love.
He cried silently until his eyes burned.
Then he wiped his tears.
And made a decision.
He wanted to become a good child.
Not out of fear—
but because he finally understood:
His mother simply wanted a child who wouldn't disappoint her.
From that day, he tried to change.
He stopped sneaking out, stopped scaring neighbors, stopped making strange noises. He ate when told, slept when told, completed every task Kayako assigned. He mastered his expressions, always maintaining perfect obedience before her.
Kayako seemed pleased.
Her gaze grew fond.
Her hugs more frequent.
Sometimes she even praised him—
"Toshio is such a good boy."
But Toshio knew it wasn't easy.
Some nights, he still dreamed of Kayako approaching with the knife. Sometimes he trembled, remembering the terrified faces of those he had scared.
But then he remembered her embrace. Her tears.
"I only want you to be a good child."
So, he would close his eyes and tell himself—
I will make Mother proud.
…
"Toshio is that obedient now?" Edward looked at the boy with surprise. Toshio nodded firmly. He was no longer a little child, he was bigger now, determined to let his mother live peacefully, instead of being trapped in that terrifying house, treated like a monster.
"Every time I return, the grudge clings to me," Kayako murmured. "That thing… it has grown stronger whenever I'm not here. More than once, I nearly harmed Toshio. It was terrifying."
Edward agreed deeply.
The grudge was the product of a monster.
Although Kayako herself had birthed that monster…
she clearly could no longer control it.
A tragic truth.
But Edward didn't comment. The more hatred the grudge absorbed, the stronger and deeper it grew. It had reached the point where it could no longer be concealed, leading to the current situation.
"But now we don't need to worry about that anymore." Edward smiled. He planned to begin filming soon and hold another employee lottery—adding a few more slots.
Freddy had been doing well working for him, although Freddy spent more time acting as a Dream God on the other side. As Freddy's power grew, his entire appearance had changed completely. Edward noticed, but said nothing.
Freddy had shed the terrifying image humans once had of him. He had taken on a completely new form—almost… saint-like.
It was absurd—hilariously so.
It seemed that human perception could reverse-shape the thing being perceived. Freddy was living proof.
With that thought, Edward pondered—
Could the same be true for legendary Pokémon?
(End of Chapter)