"Tired…"
It was just past 9 p.m.
Mamoru stepped into his room and immediately slumped down at the entrance, not even bothering to take off his shoes.
After leaving Arisu's room, he had started from the rooftop and patrolled each floor of the dormitory, even checking the surrounding grounds to set up the wedges. Now, after what felt like an endless task, he had finally returned.
(I managed to set up the detection barrier inside the dorm, but... the security cameras were such a pain.)
Searching for blind spots to place the wedges hadn't been particularly demanding in terms of physical stamina or magical output, but the mental fatigue had definitely built up.
What's more, the barrier he created was only designed to alert him if the cursed spirit levels rose to a dangerous threshold—it didn't actually pinpoint the locations of the spirits currently lurking in the dormitory.
In other words, future patrols to exorcise the lingering spirits would still be necessary. The job wasn't going to get any easier.
So, even though things had calmed down for now, there was no reason to be optimistic.
(Still, it's strange. There are a lot of them, but they're all low-level. This place has such an odd environment.)
While the conditions under which cursed spirits appear are still not fully understood, the prevailing theory is simple: the more negative energy accumulates in a confined space, the more powerful the resulting cursed spirit.
Perhaps this place had been neglected by sorcerers for a long time. That would explain the scattered presence of weak spirits across the wide area—small curses building up over time without ever consolidating into anything stronger.
(If that's the case, then at least things won't escalate overnight.)
Thinking that brought him a sliver of mental relief.
And right as he let his guard down—grrrooowl—his stomach growled.
"I'm hungry."
While the other students were eating in the cafeteria, Mamoru had spent his evening silently patrolling and working. Regardless of how skilled a sorcerer may be, hunger and fatigue still win out.
Deciding to finally call it a night, Mamoru slipped off his shoes and headed further into his room.
Then, forming a sign with his fingers, he spoke:
"Open gate."
In that instant, a white wall materialized before him—not a translucent magical barrier like the one in Arisu's room, but a completely opaque white plane, pure enough to obscure anything beyond.
Mamoru stepped forward and sank into the wall.
Beyond it lay not his dorm room, but a sterile, featureless white space.
Walls, floor, ceiling—everything was white. Oddly enough, even with no visible light source, the entire space was evenly lit.
"If I may say so myself, this is one creepy 'room.'"
This "room" was a dimensional space constructed using Mamoru's own cursed energy. A man-made pocket dimension—grand-sounding, perhaps, but not quite divine in scope.
Creating a space like this required an immense amount of cursed energy and surgical precision in its manipulation. Expansion was painstakingly slow—like building a castle from matchsticks.
Mamoru had been crafting and growing this space since he was ten years old. Even now, its total size was no larger than two connected garages.
But despite the cost and effort, it served a crucial purpose: spatial linking.
"Open gate."
This space allowed Mamoru to connect to any location he had previously marked with his cursed energy. While he could teleport without passing through this room, doing so limited him to locations within his sensing range.
But using this space as an intermediary?
Distance no longer mattered.
He could travel anywhere in the world.
Mamoru passed through the white wall once more—and emerged into a different room.
It wasn't his student dorm. This was a familiar apartment, with a window view of Tokyo's glittering night skyline.
"…Yeah, this place is more comfortable."
This was the apartment Mamoru had used before enrolling. It was also why he hadn't spent any points shopping with Arisu—there was no need. Everything he needed was here, and he could return anytime.
"Can I still order delivery this late?"
Yawning, Mamoru opened the door to the living room, planning to grab a bite and sleep.
But he wasn't alone.
"Ah, what a surprise. I was late.
Shall we take a bath? Have a meal? Or... have some food?"
Sitting on the sofa, casually munching on pizza while watching a movie, was a white-haired, blindfolded man: Gojo Satoru.
"…Why are you here?"
Mamoru pressed his fingers against his brow. Even though he was used to hearing that loud, energetic voice, his tired brain still rang from it.
"Hmm, I figured you'd be back soon.
Oh, and I ordered some pizza for you too."
"…Thanks for that. But seriously—what do you want? I'm exhausted and want to sleep."
His hunger briefly pulled his attention to the pizza, but his weariness quickly reminded him to get to the point.
"So cold. Can't a big brother check in on his cute little sibling's school life?"
"I don't have that much free time to waste."
"No no, I'd sacrifice any amount of time for my sweet little brother."
He said it with theatrical exaggeration. Mamoru didn't feel even slightly flattered.
"…I'm really tired. So if there's something you need, get to it."
"…You look wiped. What happened?"
Satoru, noticing Mamoru's genuine fatigue, dropped the act and asked in a more serious tone.
"That school is a nightmare. Way too many security cameras. I just wanted to plant a few wedges, and it took forever."
Having known Mamoru for years, Satoru could tell he was completely drained.
"Seriously? Sounds rough."
(That's the job he gave me…)
Mamoru cursed inwardly.
"…So, what do you want, brother?"
Having vented a little, Mamoru finally calmed enough to ask directly.
"Well, we've got some new first-years at the technical college. I thought you should meet them."
He handed Mamoru a file.
Mamoru, curious, accepted and flipped it open.
"…Oh, Maki-san and Inumaki-san."
The Zen'in family, like the Gojos, was one of the big three sorcerer clans. Mamoru knew of Maki and Inumaki, though only casually due to their family ties.
Then, on the next page, he froze.
"…Huh? Panda?"
The third file featured a photo of—well, an actual panda. Big eyes, round ears, black-and-white fur.
Not someone who looked like a panda. An actual panda.
"Wait, hold on. Enrolled?"
"Yep."
Mamoru wasn't surprised that such a being existed. He knew Panda wasn't ordinary.
If you were a sorcerer, you'd likely heard of it.
Panda was a "Cursed Corpse" created by Yaga Masamichi, the president of Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College and a pioneer in puppet sorcery. Panda wasn't just animated—he had a will of his own.
"I'm not prejudiced or anything. I'm just surprised the higher-ups signed off on this."
The elders were sticklers for tradition and bloodline. Mamoru doubted they'd accept a cursed corpse as a student.
He eyed his brother.
"To me, it's as easy as making instant noodles."
(He definitely forced it through.)
Mamoru could only sigh as Satoru puffed his chest out with pride.
"I wanted you to meet them face to face… but maybe not tonight."
Noticing Mamoru's state, Satoru backed down a bit.
"Hm… If it's really necessary, I can make time."
"No, it's fine. No rush. I'll let you meet them when you're ready."
"Thanks. That really helps."
Mamoru felt genuinely relieved.
Between his duties and the school's strange systems, free time was a rare luxury.
"So… how about school? What's it like?"
"…Like I said, annoying."
"No, I mean—what's the number one high school in Japan really like?"
"Ah. About that—we're not allowed to tell outsiders anything."
"C'mon, just a little secret between brothers?"
"No. Contracts and promises matter to a sorcerer. You taught me that, remember?"
"You're so serious…"
But Mamoru knew—Satoru was part of the reason he became that way.
He was the one who found Mamoru after he was abandoned by his family. He trained him. Raised him.
But Mamoru also knew from early on—he couldn't imitate his brother's carefree personality.
Gojo Satoru could get away with being free-spirited because he was the strongest.
Mamoru didn't have that luxury. And so, to balance it out, he became serious.
Quietly, Satoru pouted.
Mamoru looked at him—and suddenly recalled his earlier conversation with Arisu.
"…A genius, huh."
"Hm? You say something?"
Mamoru shook his head.
"…No. Just thinking—some things are better left unseen."
"What's gotten into you?"
(That girl admires geniuses so much… I wonder what she'd think if she saw this version of my brother.)
Thinking that, Mamoru couldn't help but chuckle a little.