Strange. Very strange.
Kasumigaoka Utaha had lain in her entryway for half a day, dazed and broken, before finally resolving to call the police. But the surveillance footage showed nothing—no one behind her, no one approaching, no one at all.
Yet what happened to her was undeniable.
Very obvious when I showered this morning.
Panic crystallized into something colder. A yokai? Something that takes human form?
She took a leave of absence. Visited a temple. Purchased every amulet and charm the monk recommended. Now, as dusk painted the streets in amber and shadow, she walked home with her precious bag of protections.
The monk said to put up the talismans. Set up the formation. Then I'll be safe.
She'd considered staying at a classmate's house, but the thought of bringing something bad into someone else's home stopped her. This burden was hers alone.
She avoided the bus route—couldn't face that bus, couldn't face memories. Instead, she detoured through unfamiliar streets, bought supplies at a convenience store, and charted a long, winding path home.
Please. Let nothing happen tonight.
Her face heated. Last night's dream had been... shameful. Vivid. Enjoyable. She'd woken up and immediately needed to wash her pajamas.
He said his name was Akira. Could the police find him? No connections. Maybe my editor—
A chill ran down her spine.
Someone watching.
She scanned the street. Shops. Sidewalks. Streetlights. Nothing obvious, but—
Wait.
Where are the people?
This wasn't a remote road. Dinner time or not, there should be someone. A pedestrian. A shopkeeper. A sign of life.
Empty. All empty.
Ghost.
Her hair stood on end. She fumbled for the blessed bracelet, clutching it like a lifeline.
A black cat shot from an alley, crossing her path.
She nearly screamed.
The monk said: don't stay still. Run home. Set up the formation.
She jogged—couldn't run fast, legs still sore from yesterday's exertions, each step sending protest through her muscles.
Meow.
From the alley. Behind her. She didn't look back.
"Here. This one's yours. And this—" Akira sliced ham sausage into small pieces, laying them on a scrap of newspaper. "—is your payment."
The mother cat meowed her appreciation.
"So pitiful. No one feeds you." He opened the sheep's milk he'd bought, poured a small puddle beside the ham. "I have things to do. Going now."
The cat meowed again. He stood, dusted off his knees, and walked out of the alley.
The shops weren't empty. The streets weren't deserted. Under some subtle influence—a game mechanic, a perception filter—the people inside simply... didn't register. In Akira's view, everything was normal.
Except Utaha.
She clutched a rosary bracelet, her neck festooned with amulets and charms. She looked ridiculous. She looked terrified.
Does she think I'm a ghost?
His Agility was 23.3 now. At full speed, he was practically invisible. Tailing her was laughably easy.
If she saw me vanish into thin air... yeah. I'd think ghost too.
A grin spread across his face.
Fine. Ghost it is.
The rules were clear: exceed 20 meters for three seconds, fail. Get caught in an alert gaze for two seconds, fail.
But 'feeling' doesn't count.
He waited until she rounded a corner, then closed the distance. His footsteps matched hers perfectly—the soft padding of his sneakers syncing with the click of her small leather shoes. If she turned her head, with his speed and reflexes, she'd see nothing.
Strange. Very strange.
Kasumigaoka Utaha felt breath on her neck. Footsteps that shouldn't be there. A presence right behind her that her eyes refused to confirm.
It's here. It's really here.
She walked faster. Turned corners sharply. Each time, the sensation persisted—close, intimate, inescapable.
Almost home. Almost—
The streetlights flickered on, casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement.
She looked down.
Her shadow was wrong.
Another person stood behind her.
Pressed behind her. No space between them. No breath of separation.
Her eyes welled. She couldn't run. Couldn't scream. Couldn't do anything but stand there, paralyzed, as the key trembled in her hand.
Haunted. I'm haunted.
"Please." Her voice cracked, sobbing. "Please stop haunting me. I'm scared."
The key found the lock. The door opened.
She was inside the entryway—just like last time, just like before—and behind her, the presence remained. Hands settled on her shoulders. Gentle. Inescapable.
[God's Hand — ACTIVATED]
Target sensitivity: DOUBLED.
"Don't be nervous." The voice was warm, almost kind. "I simply need your help fulfilling a wish. Help me achieve Buddhahood."
"A w-wish?" Her teeth chattered. "I don't have—I'm just a high school student—I don't have money—how can I—"
I'm still coherent. Still standing. Still breathing.
She counted it a miracle.
Behind her, Akira was dying of laughter.
Is this eroge?! What kind of absurd plotline is this? I'm a normal person. Since when am I a ghost?
But... this is fun.
"You can definitely help," he said, maintaining the performance.
"H-How?"
"Help me have a child."
"...Ah?"
"No descendants. My genes are excellent—it would be a loss to humanity if they disappeared. I need an equally excellent woman to continue my line."
Does that mean... he thinks I'm excellent? Why am I thinking about this NOW—
"And if I refuse?"
The hands tightened slightly. Not painful. Firm.
"You have no right to refuse."
CRACK.
Prayer beads scattered across the floor. Talismans tore. Amulets shattered.
Kasumigaoka Utaha was seized once more—by her lifeline, by her fate, by the ghost who had decided she was excellent enough.
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