Touma willed the thought, and the status panel flickered to life before his eyes.
[Name: Touma Hayase]
[Energy: 10 Cursed Energy]
[Cursed Technique: None]
[Equipped Cards (3/4): Simulator [UR], Cursed Energy Allergy [N], Bearing Insults and Heavy Burdens [R]]
[Acquired Cards (14): Mental Pollution Resistance [N], Thin Presence [N]...]
Only three new cards. On paper, not much. But one UR and one R next to a hand that used to be all N-grades was a different game entirely.
Better still, the bump in Cursed Energy had unlocked a fourth equipment slot.
He was weighing what to fill it with when new text scrolled across the Simulator panel.
[Simulator cooling down. Time remaining: one year.]
[You may complete the following special mission to earn an immediate simulation charge.]
[Guidance Mission: Debts Don't Keep Overnight!]
[Description: In the dog-eat-dog world of jujutsu, the weak don't even qualify as bait without a stronger hand's permission. You've already seen hell. Don't flinch from demons now. Using everything this simulation has given you, eliminate the Assistant Manager who tried to send you to your death: Sato.]
[Rewards:]
[1. Simulation charges +1.]
[2. Premium card draw x1 (guaranteed R-grade minimum, positive effect only).]
[3. Cursed Tool: Asakirimaru (short sword).]
A full year of cooldown. Honestly, that tracked. The Simulator's power was absurd. Full card inheritance, cumulative Cursed Energy growth through simulated memories, guaranteed scaling with every run. Something that broken deserved a long leash.
But a year was a year. In a world crawling with Cursed Spirits and psychopaths, every idle second was another roll of the dice. The simulation had proven that much. Death came without warning and without reason, and Touma's need to grow stronger wasn't theoretical. It was survival.
"A year's too long. I'm not waiting."
His gaze settled on the mission description, and the warmth drained from his eyes.
Dealing with Sato had always been part of the plan. The man had already written them off as corpses. Fair enough. Corpses don't stay buried when they've got unfinished business.
The question was method. Killing him directly wouldn't be hard. Touma's current strength was more than enough to snap an Assistant Manager like a dry branch. But the aftermath? The Windows would investigate. Wounds on the body, fingerprints, Residual Cursed Energy. Every trace was a thread someone could pull.
If you're going to kill a man, don't use your own knife.
His gaze swept the card library. Mental Pollution Resistance caught his eye for a moment, then slid past it. He locked onto a different N-grade card, one that looked useless on paper, and slotted it into the empty space.
[You equipped Thin Presence [N].]
[Current loadout: Simulator, Cursed Energy Allergy, Bearing Insults and Heavy Burdens, Thin Presence.]
The effect was instant. Touma's presence collapsed inward like a candle flame pinched between two fingers.
He stood in the same spot, but the rooftop shadows seemed to swallow him whole. Unless someone stared directly at where he was standing, their eyes would skip right over him.
"Shinjiro."
The big man yelped, nearly dropping the broom he'd been hugging while spacing out. He blinked at Touma like he'd materialized from thin air. "Huh? Touma... I wanna go home. I'm starving. When are we getting paid?"
No fear. No trembling. Unlike in the simulation, Shinjiro had no idea what was coming. His world was still simple: finish the job, collect the money, eat dinner.
"Soon." Touma clapped a hand on his shoulder and dropped his voice low. "Whatever happens next, don't make a sound. Stay behind me."
The rusted rooftop door groaned open.
Sato strolled through alone, twirling that stubby low-grade cursed tool between his fingers. His other hand pressed a handkerchief over his nose, as though the air up here personally offended him.
"Hey! You two!" His voice cut through the drizzle like a saw blade. "Break's over. Follow me down."
Shinjiro scrambled to his feet, plastering on an eager smile. "Mr. Sato, are we done for the night? About the payment..."
"Payment?" Sato adjusted his reflective glasses, and a cruel little smile tugged at his lips. "What's the rush? There's a bit of a 'leak' in the basement downstairs. Go check it out. Confirm the situation, and I'll pay you double plus three days off."
"Seriously?!" Shinjiro's face lit up. Not a shred of suspicion. "Thanks, Mr. Sato! We're on it!"
He grabbed Touma's arm and started pulling. Touma rose without protest, head bowed, bangs hiding his eyes. The picture of a dull, obedient laborer.
Satisfaction flickered behind Sato's glasses. Idiots... Might as well squeeze the last bit of use out of the bait.
Three figures descended the dim stairwell. One in front, two behind.
With every floor they dropped, the air thickened. Iron and rot. A sweet, curdled stench that coated the back of the throat. The reek of a Cursed Spirit.
They reached the basement. A heavy iron door stood before them, and beyond it lay the densest concentration of cursed pollution inside the Curtain.
"Go on. Open it up and have a look."
Sato positioned himself five meters back, a safe distance, and gestured at the half-open door. His other hand slipped quietly around a talisman tucked in his pocket.
The plan was simple. Once these two stumbled in and drew the Cursed Spirit's attention, he'd deploy his Cursed Technique. Summon his Shikigami. Harvest the kill.
"O... okay." Shinjiro's hand trembled as he reached for the door. Instinct screamed at him to run, but the promise of double pay pushed his palm forward.
In that same instant, Cursed Energy Allergy shrieked inside Touma's skull. Behind the door, in the dark, something hungry had already opened its mouth. Waiting for the meal to walk in.
Touma moved.
Not toward the door. Using the burst technique drilled into his muscles through simulated memory, he planted his foot and launched backward.
Straight at Sato.
Thin Presence did exactly what it was designed to do. Sato's attention was locked on Shinjiro's hand pushing the door. The silent figure in the background didn't register anything.
By the time the Assistant Manager's brain caught up, an ice-cold hand had already clamped around the back of his neck.
"You..." The shout died in his throat as raw force ripped him off balance.
No monologue. No chance to turn around.
Touma used every ounce of momentum, and hurled the man like a sack of garbage straight into the iron door Shinjiro had just cracked open.
"You wanted a closer look so badly? Go see for yourself."
Sato's body slammed the door wide and tumbled into the pitch-black basement.
"You bastard! I'm..." The furious, terrified scream never finished. Something in the dark shrieked, a sound that scraped against the inside of the skull, and then came the wet, heavy noise of flesh tearing apart.
"AAAAHHH!!!" The wail detonated through the corridor, bouncing off concrete walls.
Cursed Spirits hunted on instinct. On one side: Touma, whose presence was thinner than air. On the other: a screaming, flailing body that had just crashed into its den.
The choice was no choice at all.
"Help! There's a Cursed Spirit! Hel..."
Silence. Then a sound like someone chewing through gristle.
Shinjiro had collapsed against the wall, legs splayed, a dark stain spreading across his pants. His mouth hung open but nothing came out.
Touma stood in the shadows, expressionless, watching the thrashing silhouette deep inside the basement. He stepped back, slow and deliberate, until the darkness erased him completely.
[Guidance Mission: Debts Don't Keep Overnight!]
[Mission Status: Complete.]
"Mr. Sato, killed in the line of duty. What a tragedy."
The words drifted to Shinjiro from somewhere in the dark, quiet and even.
"We're just a couple of cleaners who got scared out of our minds. Didn't see a thing. Right?"