The wall clock chimed seven times. The streets were deserted, and even stray cats and dogs had vanished without a trace.
The bloody hue of dusk grew thicker; it was now the bewitching hour.
In a secluded alley, a small shop quietly rolled up its shutter door.
A handsome young man ran out carrying a sign. On the sign were four large characters: "Mo Bai's Little Shop".
A place this remote shouldn't have any customers. But shortly after the sign was hung under the eaves, an old-fashioned black car silently drove into the alley.
An old man with a goatee and white hair and beard, dressed in a black montsuki haori hakama, stepped out of the car leaning on a cane—if this four-wheeled, driverless, floating apparatus could even be called a car.
"Ho ho ho~, Shopkeeper Mo Bai, you certainly made this old man search for you."
The continuous sound of chopping vegetables inside the shop paused. The handsome young man looked up and sighed.
"Why is it you again?"
"Ho ho ho~, perhaps this is fate." The round lenses of the old man's sunglasses reflected an unsettling crimson color.
Mo Bai's grip on the kitchen knife loosened, nearly cleaving the cutting board in two.
He might have been happy if a pretty young girl had said it, but hearing it from this old geezer with one foot in the grave only filled him with a strong urge to retort.
Fate my ass!
"Come in."
"Is only ramen available today?" Mo Bai lifted the lid of the stockpot. A thick fog of steam billowed out, lingering in the shop for a long time.
The sight of tender, juicy chunks of beef floating in the clear, tea-colored broth was captivating, and the rich aroma that wafted out was mouthwatering.
"Shopkeeper, your cultivation seems to have improved quite a bit." The old man's attention wasn't on the food that would interest a diner, but rather on the thick fog spilling from the pot.
Mo Bai rolled his eyes and corrected him. "This is culinary skill."
The old man chuckled and didn't argue.
"These past few days, you've been quite relaxed, Shopkeeper."
"Oh?" The pre-proofed dough, through a series of pulling, folding, and stretching motions in Mo Bai's hands, became strands of firm, silver-thin noodles.
"Ten days ago, the shop was in Ginza. Eight days ago, it opened in Akihabara. Five days ago, it was near the Skytree. Three days ago, it moved to Sensō-ji, and today it's relocated to this nameless alley in Shinjuku..."
"To move so frequently yet keep the position of every item in the shop unchanged... it truly leaves this old man in awe."
"So, have you figured anything out?" After draining the cooked noodles, he placed them in the clear broth, added the square-cut beef chunks and side dishes, and finally topped it with washed white chrysanthemum petals that had been rearranged into the shape of a flower.
A bowl of Clear Broth Chrysanthemum Beef Noodles was freshly made.
"Your noodles."
"Forgive this old man's foolishness, but I have yet to grasp a single clue."
"I shall begin." After slowly savoring a sip of the noodle soup, the expression on the old man's villainous face, which always had the air of a final boss, relaxed.
"How's the taste?" Mo Bai, who hadn't shown the slightest emotional ripple when his movements were being exposed earlier, now had an expression filled with nervousness.
"Not bad." The old man contentedly began to enjoy the ramen before him. "What's the name of this dish?"
"Soul Repose."
It couldn't exactly be called gourmet cuisine, but to the old man, this bowl of Soul Repose Noodles held an unparalleled appeal.
For a newbie who had been wielding a kitchen knife for less than a month, receiving a "not bad" evaluation from a customer was basically the highest praise one could hope for.
However, Mo Bai wasn't quite satisfied with the old man's assessment.
"Really, just 'not bad'?" Mo Bai asked, his tone hinting at something more.
This was a recipe that the System Sprite Xiao Bai had jointly calculated and simulated with him to be a one hundred percent perfect match for him.
He was planning to make it for the girl of his dreams tonight.
"It's still a little ways off from being delicious." The old man rejected the blatant hint and insisted on smacking Mo Bai in the face with his "not bad" evaluation.
"Hmph!" The petty Mo Bai wouldn't have it. Puffing out his cheeks and glaring, he said, "Watch more, talk less. What if your made-up stories scare away my customers?"
The old man was taken aback for a moment, then began to laugh strangely.
"Jie jie jie, the Shopkeeper is a great man who forgets things easily."
"Since you opened the shop, Shopkeeper, aside from this old man and those... have you served any other customers?"
Mo Bai's face grew a little hot. It was true that for nearly a month since opening, he had basically been scraping by thanks to this one rich patron, but could you just say that out loud?!
"Hey! Don't hit a man where it hurts, you're going too far!"
"Jie jie jie jie..." The old man said nothing, just kept laughing.
His teasing gaze conveyed a troublemaking sentiment of "Go on, find another customer if you can."
Mo Bai's face was as red as a dark jujube, his fists trembling, and he was overcome with grief and indignation.
"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river, do not bully a young man for being poor!"
"A customer with four legs might be hard to find, but surely a two-legged one isn't?"
The words had barely left his mouth when a tall woman carrying a guitar case opened the shop's door.
The old man and Mo Bai exchanged a glance.
The old man, having had his words thrown back in his face, stopped his unpleasant laughter and returned to tackling the ramen on his table.
"Welcome! Please, come in!" Mo Bai, gloating in his petty victory, seemed ecstatic, his voice cracking as it hit a higher octave.
The ice-queen type woman, dressed like a secret agent in a suit, couldn't conceal her curvaceous figure.
"Hello, please have a seat over here."
"May I ask your name?" Mo Bai perfectly demonstrated what preferential treatment looked like, meticulously wiping down the already spotless tabletop one more time.
"Do they ask for that when you eat here?" The ice queen's brow furrowed slightly. Her pleasant voice, like her beautiful face, carried a hint of chill.
"My apologies. I finally have a second customer, so I got a bit carried away." Still immersed in his excitement, Mo Bai gave a slightly foolish grin.
"..." The ice queen stared intently, searching Mo Bai's face for any suspicious signs.
"Yukikawa Yukie."
===
I am Yukikawa Yukie, and I belong to the Yukikawa Shrine.
While being a Seven-Star Chef of the International Gourmet Organization (IGO), I am also an official combatant.
A combatant against what?
Wherever people gather, chimi mōryō are bound to be hiding deep within. What's more, the Far East is a land where the beliefs in eight million gods are intermingled.
A few days ago, the Yukikawa Shrine received a report about a Lost Demon that had appeared in a certain district of Shinjuku, devouring passersby.
After a series of divinations by the Star-Chanting Miko, the Lost Demon's location was finally confirmed.
As the Yukikawa Shrine's foremost specialist, with the highest culinary skills and the most unorthodox methods, slaying demons is my solemn duty.
Wielding Sakurafubuki, the spirit blade passed down through generations at the Yukikawa Shrine, I have nothing left to fear!
===
—That's how it was supposed to be.
But for some reason, upon arriving at the designated location, Yukikawa Yukie found a restaurant.
Realizing this restaurant was somewhat strange, Yukikawa Yukie charged right in.
"Is only ramen available?"
"Ah? Oh." After responding to Mo Bai, Yukikawa Yukie continued to survey the small shop, which was filled with a thick fog.
Although the fog was thick enough to make one feel as if they were in the clouds, it didn't feel damp or suffocating in the slightest, as if it were purely decorative.
The sounds were also unnatural; the clamor of summer cicadas and frogs was completely blocked out from the outside.
Perhaps because of the absence of this noise, Yukikawa Yukie's body and mind gradually relaxed as she smelled the faint, elusive fragrance in the air.
"Shopkeeper, it's coming," the old man said abruptly.
The next moment, the shop's sliding door was violently thrown open!
A creature with twisted limbs barely maintained a humanoid form. Its neck hung on its chest as if broken, and a terrifying, gaping maw opened and closed on its exposed torso.
A crimson liquid dripped to the floor from its sharp fangs.
"Hiss~ ROAR!!!"
"Demon! Your end is here!" The cherry-blossom-colored spirit blade sliced through the guitar case.
The battle was about to begin.
________________________________________
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