Chapter 10
Utaha Kasumigaoka's hand stopped in mid-air.
The elegantly packaged box of mint candies felt cool in her palm, the aluminum tin reflecting a flickering light in the afternoon sun. She looked at Eriri's pale face—it was truly pale, not an illusion of makeup or lighting, but an almost translucent white, as if the blood had instantly drained away.
"...Low blood sugar?"
Utaha's crimson eyes narrowed slightly, her sharp gaze sweeping across Eriri's face. She knew the blonde girl too well, noticing every change in expression in those blue eyes. At this moment, Eriri's pupils were slightly dilated, her breathing a little uneven, and the knuckles gripping the edge of her sketchbook had turned white from the pressure.
This wasn't ordinary low blood sugar. At least, it didn't match Utaha's understanding of low blood sugar.
But Eriri had already taken the candy box. Her fingers were still trembling as she unscrewed the lid, poured out two light green candies, and stuffed them into her mouth. The cool mint melted on her tongue with a hint of sweetness, calming her down a little.
"Thanks," Eriri whispered, without adding her usual tsundere suffix like "but I won't appreciate it even if you give me candy."
That convinced Utaha even more that something had happened.
"Are you sure it's just low blood sugar?" Utaha didn't pull her hand back, instead using the opportunity to prop up her chin, asking in her casual but secretly probing tone. "Sawamura-san, could it be that you're skipping breakfast again to maintain your 'perfect lady' image?"
"None of your business," Eriri instinctively replied, but her tone was noticeably weaker. She turned her head away, avoiding Utaha's gaze, but couldn't help glancing at the other girl's right shoulder—the spot where the gray-white cursed spirit had just been.
There was nothing there now. Just the soft fabric of Utaha's school shirt and the warm patches of light scattered through the window.
But Eriri had seen it clearly.
The translucent monster made of words and mist, popped like a balloon by Zen'in Genji.
And his calm explanation—"a Grade 4 cursed spirit, the embodiment of 'creative anxiety.'"
Eriri's throat felt a little dry. She forced herself to focus back on the sketchbook in front of her, her pencil unconsciously tracing lines on the paper. The outline of a girl's profile was taking shape, but the details were messy—her hands were still shaking.
"You look really unwell," Utaha's voice came again, this time with less teasing and more genuine concern. "Do you need to go to the nurse's office? I can go with you."
"...No, it's fine," Eriri bit her lower lip. "I just need to sit for a while."
She wasn't lying. The shock of that moment had been too intense. Her adrenaline had spiked, then crashed, and now she felt a bit drained. But what troubled her more was the dark world hidden beneath everyday life—the one she had just seen for herself.
Cursed spirits. Jujutsu. Exorcism.
These words swirled in her head, overlapping with Genji's calm face.
"If you say so," Utaha finally withdrew her hand and picked up her hardcover book again, but her gaze didn't fall on the pages. "But, Sawamura-san, as a fellow high school girl, I still advise you to take care of your body. Creation is important, but don't sacrifice your health for it."
That was surprisingly sincere. Eriri was momentarily stunned, then turned her head to look at Utaha.
The black-haired girl had lowered her eyes, her long eyelashes casting a faint shadow on her cheeks. Her right hand unconsciously rubbed her left shoulder—the very spot where the cursed spirit had been clinging. The movement was very subtle, but Eriri noticed it.
"Your shoulder…" Eriri couldn't help saying. "Does it still hurt?"
Utaha looked up in surprise, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "Oh? You're actually concerned about me? Has the sun started rising in the west?"
"W-Who's concerned about you?!" Eriri immediately flared up, her cheeks turning pink. "I just… just seeing you rub it all the time is annoying! If you're going to massage it, don't do it in front of me!"
A typical tsundere reaction. Utaha smiled—not her usual mocking smile, but a more genuine, slightly tired one.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," she said, rolling her shoulders. She did look much more relaxed. "It's strange. It was really sore just now, but now it suddenly feels better. Maybe arguing with a golden retriever really does have therapeutic effects."
"Who are you calling a golden retriever?!" Eriri glared.
"You tell me."
"You—!"
Just as they were about to start another round of bickering, the door to the club room knocked at that moment.
They both turned their heads.
The door creaked open, and a boy with glasses walked in—a second-year senior and the head of the literature and art department.
"Kasumigaoka, there you are," the senior's eyes darted between Utaha and Eriri, a little surprised that the two of them were actually in the same room. "I need to confirm a few details with you about next month's school festival plans. Is this a good time?"
Utaha frowned, clearly unwilling to move, but finally sighed, closed her book, and stood up.
"Fine, let's go," she picked up her school bag and, as she reached the door, looked back at Eriri. "Are you… sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine!" Eriri said irritably. "Just go. Stop lingering here."
Utaha shrugged and left with the senior.
The club room door closed quietly.
Eriri's tense shoulders finally slumped. She took a deep breath, collapsed back into her chair, her golden twin tails looking a little wilted.
"Come out," she said weakly.
Shadows seeped out from the corners of the wall, coalescing into Genji's figure. He was still in his indigo hunting robes, looking out of place in the modern club room, but his face wore an expression of concern.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice very soft.
"...Not really," Eriri admitted. "I just… I really saw that thing. On her shoulder… the cursed spirit."
"It was just a Grade 4 cursed spirit. Very weak," Genji sat down on the chair across from her—or rather, hovered above it. "But for an ordinary person, long-term parasitism really does affect their health. Your classmate must have been under a lot of pressure lately."
"She's a light novel writer," Eriri said gloomily. "Under the pen name 'Utaha Kasumigaoka.' She's been serializing a new work recently. I heard the deadline is approaching."
"No wonder," Genji nodded. "The anxiety caused by creative pressure is the best food for that kind of cursed spirit. But it's fine now. I removed it."
Eriri looked up, her blue eyes staring straight at Genji. "Are there many… cursed spirits like that?"
Genji was silent for two seconds.
"Many," he finally said. "Far more than you think. Hospitals, schools, companies, even ordinary homes… wherever negative emotions accumulate, cursed spirits can breed. It's just that most of them are weak. Weak enough that they don't cause serious harm—at most, nightmares, depression, or shoulder pain like your classmate's."
"What about the strong ones?"
"The strong ones…" Genji paused. "The strong ones kill people."