Akira's so-called "finishing touches" really did exist—he stuck a few talismans in the center of the living room and behind the bedroom door.
The patterns on these were different from the ones he had given Utaha.
Just looking at them brought an inexplicable sense of comfort.
Utaha had assumed they were for warding off evil, like some protective formation in a game, shielding Eriri's house.
But when she curiously asked as they were leaving, she found out they were "Clear Heart Talismans" used for spiritual cleansing.
Wearing them would calm the mind, and even being nearby had a slight effect. But they offered very little protection against spirits.
"Isn't that… not very appropriate?"
Utaha hesitated.
Akira shrugged.
"Unless there's a special reason, the odds of an ordinary person encountering a ghost are about the same as winning the lottery.
And those long-lasting protective talismans take a lot of effort to make—no way I'd stick them around like freebies.
Even if you offered tens of millions, I wouldn't bother unless it was necessary."
"And for someone who just encountered a ghost, what they need most is peace of mind.
The presence and minor effects of the Clear Heart Talismans can prevent them from scaring themselves with wild thoughts, helping them feel safe in their home again, and get a good night's sleep."
Utaha nodded thoughtfully, got in the car, and sat in the passenger seat.
As the flickering street lights passed by in reverse through the window, her thoughts drifted back to the "weight" of those talismans—until halfway through the ride, when she suddenly realized something odd.
Although staying at Akira's house cost money—like a hotel—it was still someone else's home.
She should've at least asked before going. But today, she had just gotten into his car and gone along?
It would be awkward now to bring up, "Can I stay at your place tonight?" But following him there like it was only natural… that felt awkward too.
Even among close friends, you'd at least say something. The only people who wouldn't need to are family, lovers, or… romantic partners.
Utaha agonized over this all the way home, and Akira, focused on driving, didn't notice until they got out of the car and he saw her expression.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, it's just… I'm sorry for bothering you again tonight."
Akira gave her a teasing look. "Why so formal all of a sudden? Are you trying to avoid paying?"
"…"
"Come to think of it, your membership balance here is nearly used up, right?
So… tonight I'm basically taking in a stray cat who has nowhere else to go. Does that mean I get to wash it clean and cuddle it in bed?"
Utaha immediately pulled out some cash and stuffed it forcefully into his pocket with a fierce growl: "Haa—"
It wasn't something she learned from Akira's cat, but rather from feral cats she had seen before, using this gesture to show hostility.
Akira patted his pocket, feeling satisfied. Though he'd been hissed at by a cat, at least he made some income from going out tonight.
Back home, feeling exhausted, Utaha rubbed the approaching Shiro and was about to head upstairs when she saw Akira unlocking the storage room under the stairs.
He carried in the wooden sculpture he had brought back from Eriri's house and waved at her, "Come here."
Utaha walked to the doorway and immediately spotted a traditional Japanese doll on one of the shelves.
For some reason, she felt it was staring at her—she involuntarily locked eyes with it for several seconds.
And in that moment, she thought she saw the doll's eyes move.
A chill crawled up her spine.
At her feet, Shiro's fur puffed up instantly. He hissed at the doll, mimicking Utaha's earlier defensive growl.
"That doll… its eyes…"
Akira turned to glance.
"Oh, that's a cursed doll. The kind that causes hauntings and nightmares when brought home. If you throw it out, it finds its way back; if you burn it, it seeks revenge."
While speaking, he grabbed the doll by its head, stared into its eyes for a moment, then put it back on the shelf.
Utaha thought the doll's eyes looked even more lifelike now—no longer filled with vague malice, but instead dazed, as if shocked stiff.
Shiro leapt onto the shelf, knocked the doll over with one paw, and added two swift smacks.
Besides the doll, there were many other items in the room that seemed far removed from the modern world—like tortoise shells, ancient coins, talismans, and bizarre, grotesque collectibles like the wooden carving from Eriri's house.
"Mr. Ogiwara… this room is…?"
"Yōkai, or ghosts, or paranormal entities—whatever you want to call them—are weird.
If you don't believe in them, your chances of encountering them are as slim as winning the lottery.
But the more you believe, the more the probability increases.
At a light believer's level, it's like winning second or third prize.
But if you truly perceive and acknowledge their existence, that's fourth prize or higher."
Akira placed the wooden sculpture and compass in position, picked up Shiro, and left the room, locking the door behind them.
With his arms full, he could only nod his head to indicate she should follow him upstairs.
"That's why I told the Spencer family to move out tonight and didn't let you come over.
Even if they were frightened, the ghost hadn't fully appeared, it just showed minor activity. They remained half-believers at most—second or third prize level.
They won't have much trouble in the future."
"After all, to win the lottery, you have to buy a ticket. As long as they don't tempt fate, like playing spirit-summoning games, they'll likely be fine."
"But you—you've truly seen and understood. That's fourth prize or above, and you're automatically entered every week.
Some of your actions might even count as actively buying more tickets."
Entering his room, Akira sat behind his desk and placed Shiro on his lap. He motioned to the office chair for her to sit.
Utaha, now fully alert, didn't rush to her own room. She obediently sat down.
"From now on, rather than avoiding what's in that room, it's better for you to understand it.
Yes, this might slightly increase the odds of something happening, but you'll be better prepared to deal with it—and the risk will drop significantly."
That sparked her curiosity and courage. "So… Can ordinary people really deal with ghosts?"
"Of course. Most ghosts aren't that strong. If they were, they wouldn't need to scare people—they'd just kill them directly.
They feed off fear and distortion. If you stand your ground, remain calm and determined, even the scariest attacks won't work.
You don't even need physical strength—just mental willpower and courage."
Utaha nodded silently, her fear subsiding.
Akira patted Shiro's rear, prompting him to hop down.
"All right, you're probably exhausted. I just told you all this so you can sleep peacefully. As for learning about the supernatural—that can wait till tomorrow."
"Oh, one more thing—I almost forgot."
Akira spread his arms and smiled warmly.
"Welcome to the other side of the world, Miss Kasumigaoka."
The other side of the world, huh…
In that world, what value did those two remaining talismans hold?
Utaha stood and bowed, heading to her room—but paused at the doorway.
Akira, just about to light a cigarette, looked over. "Something else?"
"I just wanted to say…"
She turned around, a trace of confusion flickering in her wine-red eyes.
"If you're going to teach me so many things, I should at least pay tuition. Those three talismans… they must've been expensive."
The question caught Akira off guard.
After a pause, he replied, "We've known each other for a while now. You stepping into this world has something to do with me—I couldn't just stand by.
If something happened to you, I wouldn't have anything left to lust after.
As for the talismans, maybe they're valuable to others, but to me they're nothing—just a bit of effort. That's why I couldn't treat them as expensive during a trade."
Utaha's gaze grew even more lost. "Then what do you use to measure the value of your trades, if not money?"
Akira hadn't expected that question, but answered with interest, "Not money. Never has been. Money's value is defined by human rules and differs from person to person.
I follow a different kind of equivalence—measured only by one thing: the heart."
"So the value of my trades is always determined by whether they're satisfactory to me."
Satisfactory, huh…
Utaha touched her chest.
She didn't feel satisfied.
Not because she was unhappy—but because it was too much.
"You think those three talismans were cheap, but I think they were expensive. One of them saved my life."
She lowered her head, the confusion in her eyes beginning to fade.
"All the care and guidance you've given me—I consider them very valuable.
But what I've given in return is just a meaningless 'good morning'… no, maybe it does have some value to you. But to me, that's an excessive trade."
Akira frowned, as if he'd seen a ghost—no, something beyond comprehension—as he looked at her.
"Are you crazy? In a trade, you're supposed to lower the other's value and raise your own. Who does it backward like this?"
Utaha shook her head calmly. "It's not about raising or lowering. It's about measuring the heart."
Akira groaned. "Great. You've grown up—using my own logic against me. So what are you saying?"
Utaha bowed.
"I'm sorry. Right now, I can't repay everything you've given me. I… just can't."
Akira opened the window and lit a cigarette. He usually avoided smoking indoors when sharing a room, but tonight had truly gotten on his nerves.
"This was an investment—meant to lower your defenses and make you accept the trade more easily."
Utaha disagreed. "But if I don't accept the trade, or have no other way to repay you, is it right for me to accept these 'investments' so freely?"
"You can. They mean nothing to me."
"But they mean a lot to me. If not for you, I don't know what state I'd be in right now—or whether I could even calmly speak here."
"If not for me," Akira exhaled, "You might've already gone back to your old self when you asked the Spencers for help."
That didn't faze her.
"You didn't deliberately interfere. I didn't even initially intend to ask Eriri for help. And the Spencers' help wasn't guaranteed.
That 'might have'—is like wondering whether I could've debuted as a light novel author if Tomoya hadn't helped me back then. It's not something that can be used as an excuse."
"Psychologically, you gave me a choice—so I wasn't hopeless.
You gave me a temporary goal of repaying you. You gave me a place to rest. Even if I had to pay, I wasn't stupid enough to think you cared about that 2,500 yen lodging fee."
"And in reality, your talisman saved my life. Sure, if I hadn't met you, none of this would've happened—but blaming that on you is like blaming a river for falling in and drowning. It's ridiculous."
She gave a small smile as she said that.
"What's more, the other two talismans still need to save me again. If even your powerful talismans need three to handle it, it must be something serious."
It was the first time Akira had seen Utaha's rhetorical skills on full display—so sharp he was briefly left speechless.
"You're determined to do something tonight, aren't you?"
"Yes. Right now, I can't repay you. So I'd like to ask you… to wait a little longer."
She clenched her fists, nails digging deep into her palms.
"When it's all over, I'll give you my body—to repay everything you've done for me so far."
"?!"
Akira never expected that the outcome he had jokingly wished for would actually be delivered this way.
"Up to now? Are you insane? Your body is the bargaining chip for your return as an author, and you're offering it up for this? What about your dream?"
Utaha didn't answer—she just shook her head.
"No. This isn't an equivalent trade," Akira firmly said. "Those things might've been important to you, but they were nothing to me. I'm gaining too much. This is not equal."
Hearing that, Utaha suddenly laughed.
"See, Mr. Ogiwara? Even if the other party thinks it's equal, if you feel it's too much, you can't accept it either."
"If that's the case, how can you expect me to accept all your 'investments' without guilt?"
Akira lit a second cigarette, his mood foul.
Utaha bowed once more. "Good night, Mr. Ogiwara."
After that, she returned to her room.
Akira stared quietly at the moonlight for a while, then realized he'd gotten something wrong.
Utaha's pride didn't stem from her literary talent or fame.
It was something she was born with—etched into her bones.
And once he had helped guide part of her values, that pride finally found a way to stand—regardless of whether it was right or wrong.
She had simply learned how to raise her head.
Even if it meant flying straight into the flame like a moth.
Akira put out his cigarette and muttered under his breath—
"Foolish woman."
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