Broken!
Really broken!
Could it be that this child was playing a trick on her?
She caught a glimpse of Yotsuya Miko's pale, panicked expression, and Mitsue Takeda immediately ruled out that possibility. The girl was not joking, nor was she playing a prank.
As an old woman with half her body already buried in the ground, Mitsue Takeda believed she had long mastered the art of judging people.
So—
"Plop…"
After forcibly suppressing it for a moment, a fiery restlessness suddenly erupted in her heart.
If I hear the truth in the morning, I am willing to die in the evening.
This line perfectly described Mitsue Takeda, a devout seeker of truth.
The stiffness on her face quickly dissolved, replaced once more by her familiar kind and gentle smile.
"Don't be afraid, child. Perhaps this string of beads was simply poor quality. I have a better one."
"Better…?"
Yotsuya Miko was genuinely frightened now.
The strange encounter at the bus stop, the unease of the past few days, and the ominous way the beads shattered the moment she put them on—
She forced a smile that looked like it might collapse at any second.
"O-Okay… Granny Takeda, I'll compensate you for the beads just now."
"No, no. If they were faulty, that's my responsibility. You mustn't pay."
Both of them tacitly attributed the incident to the quality of the beads.
This, in turn, made Yurikawa Hana, who had been briefly panicked, puff out her cheeks.
She was born with thick nerves and quickly concluded that this was simply a performance put on by the old woman.
When several more strings of beads shattered one after another, Yurikawa Hana became even more convinced of it.
If not for Miko's clearly unsettled expression, she might have applauded.
Sure enough…
Sure enough!!
Mitsue Takeda narrowed her eyes.
After all, she had lived most of her life. She could maintain her composure. The earlier reaction had merely been a momentary lapse caused by excessive concern.
"…Child, go home for today. You can come again tomorrow."
"…Okay."
Watching the two girls leave—one silent, one still cheerful—Mitsue Takeda felt a strange heat rise in her chest.
Strange.
Too strange…
In all her decades of experience, she had never encountered anything like this.
But—
Strange was good.
Strange was very good.
A faint excitement crept across her deeply lined face.
In the past, there had been loneliness from her peers. Contemptuous looks from those who "knew the truth."
"Liar."
"Fraud."
Word after word had drowned her.
Am I a liar?
Her gaze lingered on the girls' retreating backs, growing increasingly unfocused.
Maybe… but…
She raised her head and stared at the sky.
Dusk was falling—the hour when demons were said to walk.
Wasn't this timing… perfect?
If she wanted to verify the truth using that child, this was the best possible moment.
Turning around, Mitsue Takeda pulled out objects that had lain untouched beneath the counter for many years.
Exorcism tools.
Talismans.
Ritual implements.
She thought—
If the beads shattered, then the beads must have worked, at least a little.
Otherwise, they wouldn't have provoked whatever thing was attached to the child.
Which meant—
Her old tools might not be useless after all.
After a moment of hesitation, she sent a message to her son, asking him to come see her.
A message that felt uncomfortably like final words.
Perhaps tonight, someone would have to collect her body.
She smiled—a smile that had seen through life and death.
Am I a liar… old man?
...
...
Finally took the bait.
Mizunotsuki Seiren had been waiting for a chess piece capable of influencing the direction of the drama—
Mitsue Takeda.
In Yotsuya Miko's original story, she had been a low-town priestess with limited spiritual perception—useful, but incapable of participating in high-level games.
In this daily-world iteration, she was merely an elderly scholar with broad theological knowledge.
And a shameless fraud.
Perfect.
A professional match for him.
Seiren intended to forcibly recruit this old employee.
Her appearance would also conveniently divert attention from himself—
A perfect substitute identity.
He raised his hand and waved.
Behind him, clusters of suffocating curses stood in eerie silence.
"Let's go."
Riding atop a dog-shaped curse several meters tall, a procession resembling a night parade of a hundred demons began moving toward a certain destination.
Mizunotsuki Seiren had already chosen the identity he would wear while walking the world.
Now—
That identity needed to meet its first subordinate.
...
...
Huh!?
She lost her?
Impossible…
Mitsue Takeda looked around in shock.
She had intended to follow Yotsuya Miko—partly to observe anything related to mysticism, partly to attempt to protect her.
Something was wrong.
She had lived in Tokyo for decades. Every route was engraved in her memory.
There was no way she could lose a single girl.
Scratching her head, she tried to blame her carelessness—
Then—
Her scalp went numb.
It was already growing dark.
But Tokyo was a city that never slept.
So why—
Where were the people?
Cold sweat slid down her forehead.
She swallowed hard, her gaze darting around.
No one.
Still no one.
The once-bustling street had become deathly silent in the blink of an eye.
It felt as though all of Tokyo had turned into a corpse city.
Fear and excitement twisted together violently in her chest.
Could it be…
Could it be…?!
She hurriedly pulled ritual tools from her bag.
Tools that had once been nothing more than props now granted her an unfamiliar sense of security.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
As she walked, only her own footsteps echoed.
Only the thumping of her heart filled her ears.
Fragments of theological knowledge surfaced in her mind—
Gods vanishing.
Humans being erased.
Boundaries.
Barriers.
The closer she moved toward a certain direction, the clearer a faint sound became.
Her heartbeat accelerated.
Like a pilgrimage.
Like an exorcism.
Closer.
Closer—
[King…]
[Curse… King…]
[Fallen…]
The whispers did not urge her forward.
But Mitsue Takeda had already gone mad.
From cautious steps—
To hurried strides—
To a full sprint.
Her chest heaved violently.
Her eyes burned with unnatural determination.
Then—
The world shattered.
Like a mirror breaking.
The normal street scene exploded apart.
Behind it lay a vision enough to make one's hair stand on end.
Blood-red mist filled the sky.
The ground reflected dark, stagnant water.
In the distance, a towering demonic shrine rose.
On either side, grotesque beings lined up in two kneeling rows—
A night parade of monsters.
Even half-kneeling, their massive, twisted forms radiated a pressure that forced Mitsue Takeda to look up.
The instinctive fear of giants—
....
.....
.....
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