[You choose Option 1.]
[Using every scrap of information you have, guided by the prickling warnings of Cursed Energy Allergy, you dodge roaming Cursed Spirits along the way, scurrying like a cornered rat toward the outskirts of Tokyo and the compound of one of the Big Three Sorcerer Families: the Zenin Clan.]
Big Three Sorcerer Families? Touma's eyes lingered on those words. Whatever this household was, it was no ordinary family.
[One week later.]
[Filthy hair, caked in mud, clothes barely holding together. Strip away the desperate survival instinct still burning in your eyes and there's nothing to distinguish you from a stray dog.]
["If I can find my sister... even scrubbing toilets would be enough. Stay alive long enough to draw cards each year..."]
[Reality proves crueler than you imagined.]
[You don't even reach the Zenin compound's front gate before several patrol guards in dark kimono slam you face-first into the mud.]
["Where'd this beggar crawl from? Trespassers die!"]
[A cold wooden staff rises overhead. One more second and it cracks your skull open.]
[Then a side door creaks.]
["God, shut up... What's that stench this early in the morning?"]
[A boy about your age steps out. Bleached blond hair, expensive kimono, and a face that makes your stomach turn on instinct. The kind of face that has never once looked at another human being and seen an equal.]
[Future heir candidate of the Zenin Clan. Naoya Zenin.]
["Young Master Naoya! Our apologies for disturbing you, we'll dispose of this trash immediately." The guards grovel, none daring to lift their eyes.]
[Naoya covers his nose and mouth with his sleeve. Those fox-sharp eyes flick over you the way someone glances at something stuck to the bottom of their shoe.]
["Talentless garbage with no Cursed Energy? Reeks, doesn't it."]
[He turns to leave. Looking at you any longer would soil his vision.]
[Your heart pounds. If he walks away, you're dead. The guards' staffs are already drawn back.]
[Survival over dignity. It isn't even a question.]
[You wrench your head up from the mud and scream at his retreating back: "Young Master Naoya! I'll work like a dog! Please, let me serve you! I'll do anything!"]
[Naoya stops. Turns. The look on his face is the look of a child who's found an interesting insect.]
["Anything?"]
[He strolls over and stands above you, pointing down at his expensive wooden sandals where a fleck of mud mars the lacquer.]
["If all you can do is bark, then do what trash is meant to do. Lick them clean... and I'll let you through the gate."]
[Laughter erupts from the guards. Every eye gleams with amusement.]
Outside the simulation, Touma's expression went flat. His nails bit crescents into his palms.
Naoya Zenin. Got it. I won't forget that name.
[Inside the simulation, you don't hesitate.]
[You crawl forward on all fours, lift the sandal in both hands, and lick the mud away. One careful stroke at a time. The laughter rings in your ears like a chorus.]
["Ha! Now that's entertainment!"]
[Naoya doubles over, delighted, cruelty and amusement tangled together in his eyes.]
["Useless piece of garbage, sure, but watching you grovel is almost worth something. Bring it inside. I've been needing a new 'chair.'"]
[And so, at the cost of every scrap of dignity, you step through the gates of one of the most rotten families in the jujutsu world.]
So this family is connected to Jujutsu Sorcerers after all. Only now did the full picture click into place.
[You aren't assigned to the servant quarters. You become Naoya's personal attendant, though "attendant" is generous. You aren't treated as a person. You are a breathing piece of furniture.]
[Bad mood? He kicks you. Tired from training? You serve as a human backrest. Testing his Cursed Technique? You stand at the edge of the danger zone as a living target.]
[You accept all of it. A fawning smile plastered across your face at every moment, while behind it your mind devours information like a starving animal. Every detail of the Zenin Clan, catalogued and filed.]
[You study his Projection Sorcery. You memorize the compound's layout. You eavesdrop on conversations between the clan's leadership.]
[Year two. Age sixteen.]
[Drawing this year's card...]
[Draw successful!]
[Bearing Insults and Heavy Burdens (R): While being humiliated, beaten, or verbally abused, your physical recovery speed increases by 50% and pain is reduced by 30%.]
[Adjust loadout?]
[Yes / No]
[You equip it without a second thought, swapping out Mental Pollution Resistance.]
["Isn't that poetic... even the system thinks I'm living like a dog."]
[This year, Bearing Insults and Heavy Burdens keeps you alive through treatment no human should endure. Your body grows tougher with every beating, more resilient than before.]
[Naoya grows fond of his "durable dog." He takes you everywhere.]
[One afternoon, from across a courtyard, you finally spot your sister. Sayaka looks years older than she should. She kneels in a corner, scrubbing a mountain of laundry. You don't approach her. You can barely keep yourself alive.]
[The fragile peace doesn't last.]
[One day, a Cursed Spirit breaks loose on the mountain behind the compound.]
[A near-first-grade Cursed Spirit, recently captured, shatters its seal. Naoya, training on the mountainside, takes the brunt of its rampage.]
["Tch, what a pain. Had to be now."]
[Naoya is strong, but he carries no cursed tools, and hours of training have drained his Cursed Energy reserves. The thing charging at him is a writhing mass of distorted flesh studded with eyeballs, spraying corrosive acid in wide arcs. Exactly the kind of attack Naoya's style handles worst.]
[You stand behind him, holding his outer robe.]
[Before you can react, a hand seizes your collar.]
[A surge of force wrenches you off your feet.]
["Hey. You're a dog, right? Time to protect your master."]
[Naoya's voice, right beside your ear.]
[He hurls you like a sandbag straight at the charging near-first-grade Cursed Spirit, a human shield to absorb the wide-area acid attack.]
[Not a flicker of hesitation. Not a trace of guilt. In his eyes, your life exists for one purpose: to buy him the single second he needs to reposition his Cursed Technique.]
["That's your value. Feel honored."]
[The gaping maw rushes closer. Behind you, the blond boy uses the time your body bought him to step back at his leisure, that same amused smirk on his face.]
[And you understand.]
[No amount of groveling, enduring, or licking boots will ever change what you are to these people. Trash is trash, now and forever.]
[This is the Zenin Clan.]
[Life and death compressed into a heartbeat. Time freezes.]
[1. Activate Cursed Energy Allergy to locate the blind spots in the Cursed Spirit's attack pattern. Attempt to survive the unsurvivable. (Extreme difficulty.)]
[2. Scream every curse you've swallowed for two years at Naoya Zenin as you fall, then get eaten. (Satisfying, but guaranteed death.)]
[Choose:]
Outside the simulation, crouched in the rooftop shadows, killing intent boiled behind Touma's eyes.
The humiliation of being discarded like garbage, flung away without a thought. The words on the screen hit somewhere deeper than skin.
"The Zenin Clan. Naoya Zenin. Good. That's good."
"You think I'm just a thing you throw at monsters to buy yourself a second? Fine. This simulation, I'll show you how a thing knocks every tooth out of your head."
He drew a long breath and locked onto the option that offered the slimmest thread of survival, the only choice that kept the simulation alive.
"Option 1. As long as I'm still breathing, we'll settle this debt. Every last cent of it."