The old monk and his disciple took their leave from Shingen Yashida. Their excuse was fitting—the vengeful spirit had been suppressed, but they'd contributed nothing to the effort, so they wouldn't accept payment and would return to the mountains for cultivation.
The young monk was unhappy about his master refusing compensation. Japanese monks treated their position like any other job—some temples operated like companies with regular working hours. Weren't they monks to make money? If they weren't getting paid, what was the point of this trip?
"You don't understand anything! That ghost will emerge again! Better to stay far away!" the old monk scolded.
Shingen Yashida was a typical businessman—using people when needed, discarding them when not. These useless exorcists had served no purpose, so he had his bodyguards dismiss the entire group. His attention now focused entirely on Max and the mysterious woman behind him.
American dollars, mansions, yachts! A complete financial offensive left Max completely dazed. He stumbled out of the Yashida estate in a fog.
After the excitement faded, worry and lingering fear set in. He wasn't some big shot who could pull off this kind of deception. The compensation the other party offered wasn't even for him.
"Sigh, better just hand it over honestly..."
The next day, at dawn, Max crawled out of bed at five in the morning. Looking in the mirror, he discovered a pale, hazy shadow following closely behind him.
This matter was far from over, just as the old monk had predicted.
He didn't dare alarm anyone, knowing Bella hated being disturbed. So as daylight broke, he mingled with the morning commuter crowds, circling through the city three times before changing clothes and hairstyle. After all that effort, he finally made his way to the back door of Bella's villa.
Then he waited. And waited...
Bella didn't wake up until nearly noon. Suppressing the white-clothed ghost had taken considerable effort. This sleep was exceptionally sweet—she didn't have a single dream.
"If there's business, present it. If not, withdraw..." She hugged her pillow, unwilling to get up for quite some time.
"Little Bei, Little Bei, the little mustachioed guy has been waiting for you all morning," Sakura Dragon nudged her.
"He's definitely here to deliver money. I'm not hurting for cash... Let him wait a bit longer." Bella clutched her pillow while muttering.
She dawdled for another three hours. By the time dinner rolled around, Max finally got to see Bella.
"Boss, you have to save me! That ghost is still following me!" Max looked utterly miserable. This whole exorcism gig had been nothing but terror and anxiety—and he didn't dare accept the money he'd earned.
"Is that so?" Bella remained noncommittal, sipping her coffee. The first moment she'd laid eyes on Max, she'd sensed the negative energy around him. Now she used her psychic vision to examine him more carefully.
It was real! In her vision, a pale, hazy figure clung to Max's side. The white figure sensed her gaze and glared at her viciously.
Bella scratched her head. This ghost was remarkably persistent!
Its power ranked among the strongest spirits she'd ever encountered.
Ghosts were naturally inferior to mages, yet this one had managed to leave behind a trace of energy to haunt Max even after Bella had suppressed its main form. That alone demonstrated formidable strength—at least Shaw and Ah-Rin couldn't manage such a feat.
"Mm, don't worry. It's just residual energy, probably picked up during your exorcism. It'll dissipate on its own in ten days or so."
Bella picked up a rice ball wrapped in seaweed and took a large bite.
To accommodate the Stanford exchange students, Tokyo University and the Foreign Ministry had jointly hired a team of chefs who prepared varied meals daily. While not quite 24/7 service, they provided freshly cooked food every day.
Max forced a smile. "Boss, the other party..."
Bella raised one hand. "You don't need to tell me the details—I'm not interested. Since we know each other, I'll give you some advice: Japan is a strange place. If you see something on the ground, don't pick it up. Don't think you're some protagonist who'll find treasure and soar to greatness. Those things are always haunted."
This was also Rule Six of her Marvel Survival Manual, applicable not just in Japan but worldwide.
Don't pick up train passes, bracelets, or videotapes lying on the ground! There's a one percent chance you'll become a superhero, nine percent chance you'll become a supervillain, and the remaining ninety percent? Dead!
Max looked stricken, pointing behind himself. "What about this thing following me?"
Bella picked up some grilled meat with her chopsticks and savored it. The flavor was rich, the texture springy and satisfying. Japanese food was so much better than American cuisine—she was seriously considering not going back...
Only after swallowing did she finally respond slowly, "What else can be done? What do you expect? I've already suppressed the main body. She's got grievances, you know? I can't just silence her completely, can I?"
To help Max understand, Bella gave him an example.
"Look, I can dock your pay, fire you, even insult you. But I can't stop you from speaking. You have the right to talk. If you curse me behind my back, talk trash about me, I'll tolerate it, right? Everything works the same way. You can't push things to extremes. Just endure it for a few days."
As if hearing Bella's statement, the white-clothed ghost gained some audacity. She gently inhaled near Max's neck.
Max felt an icy chill at the back of his neck, his teeth chattering.
"How... how... how long will this... last?" he stammered.
Bella examined the ghost remnant—this wisp of residual consciousness. "Seven days."
Hearing that number, Max panicked.
"No way! Many people died before seven days were up! Boss, you can't just watch me die... wuwuwu..." Max sobbed pitifully.
Sakura Dragon poked her head out from Bella's shoulder, looking at Max with disdain. This man was actually crying? His personality was way too weak!
Die in seven days? Bella certainly wouldn't let Max die right in front of her, but psychic powers weren't X-ray vision—she couldn't see blood vessels and internal organs. She had no idea how Max had come up with this seven-day death prediction.
"Let me do a divination for you. Give me your hand."
Max obediently extended his hand. Bella's fingernail swiftly traced across his wrist, drawing a drop of blood to perform divination.
The result was somewhat unexpected. She couldn't analyze the specific process, but a bright red character for "death" appeared clearly—meaning Max would indeed die, probably within these seven days.
The ghost remnant hiding in Max's shadow laughed triumphantly.
Laughing, are you? Think I can't kill you? I'm just too lazy to bother with you!
Bella raised her hand and struck. The remnant—less substantial than even a phantom clone—was completely pulverized.