I brushed the dirt off my body, feeling the faint sting of half-healed cuts and bruises. The flames I had summoned burned around me in wild arcs, but with a single thought I willed them back. The fire receded like obedient serpents curling into smoke, vanishing into the air until only embers lingered. Above me, the shimmering curtain of the barrier flickered once, then dissolved completely.
What remained was chaos. Smoke, ash, and dust spiraled together in the air, painting the battlefield in a haze. The smell of charred concrete and scorched metal clung stubbornly to the ruins. It looked less like a fight had happened here and more like a disaster zone, one the authorities would never be able to explain.
I took a deep breath, steadying my body. "I should move from here. Sorcerers will be coming any time now," I muttered. My voice was hoarse, though mostly from exhaustion rather than pain.
From behind me, a low growl rumbled. My wolf emerged from the shadows, his form larger than any ordinary beast, spectral fur rippling with faint cursed energy. I had summoned him moments before the barrier collapsed, ordering him to devour the lingering traces of cursed energy left behind by the special grade spirit I had slain.
"You did well," I said softly, resting a hand on his spectral mane. His glowing eyes met mine briefly before I de-summoned him. The cursed energy tether connecting us snapped shut, and his body dissolved into faint streams of light that melted into the air.
No time to linger. I focused, reinforcing my body with cursed energy, and then vanished from the scene. To anyone watching, it would seem like I had simply disappeared, leaving behind nothing but destruction — and the convenient illusion of what would soon be reported as a "massive gas leak."
This time, I reached home in less than five minutes.
The moment I stepped inside, the world outside felt far away. I pulled the curtains from my window, revealing Tokyo's skyline in all its chaotic brilliance. Neon lights pulsed, traffic hummed, and crowds moved like restless rivers through the streets. Even at night, the city never slept. For most, it was exhausting. For me, it was comfort.
"My perfect dream," I whispered, leaning against the glass. "Although… still somewhat incomplete."
The thought sat heavy on my chest. As beautiful as this life seemed, it wasn't truly mine. Somewhere deep inside, guilt stirred again — guilt for inhabiting someone else's body, guilt for leaving behind my own family in another world. I hadn't asked for death. I hadn't asked for transmigration. And yet, here I was. Alive, but not myself.
I exhaled slowly. I just hope that boy — the original owner of this body — is in a better place now. And I hope my family can move on from my death, live well, and never know the truth of what became of me.
Enough. Thinking about it wouldn't change anything. Shaking off the melancholy, I headed straight to the bathroom. The shower washed away the grime of battle, hot water running over my skin until the fatigue began to ease. When I stepped out, clean and refreshed, the man in the mirror almost looked normal. Almost.
Hunger gnawed at me next. I went to the kitchen, pulling what ingredients I had left in the fridge. A simple but hearty meal came together quickly — nothing extravagant, but warm and filling. Eating in silence, I reminded myself that money wasn't a problem. The inheritance tied to this body was more than enough to sustain me comfortably for the rest of my life. Work would never be a necessity. For once, I could just… live.
After cleaning up, I collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh, pulling out my phone. The glow of the screen lit up the dim room as I scrolled through social media. The posts and trends were eerily similar to those of my old world — same humor, same arguments, same endless stream of pictures and noise. At first glance, this world was almost identical.
Almost.
Every now and then, scattered between posts about pop idols and memes, there were news reports: mysterious accidents, unexplained explosions, and above all, "gas leaks." To ordinary people, they were tragic but natural disasters. To me, every headline screamed of curses. They were the invisible shadows of this world, hiding in plain sight.
"Ding dong."
The doorbell chimed, crisp and unexpected.
My brows knitted. Strange. I didn't order anything. Who would be visiting me at this hour?
Cautiously, I rose to my feet and walked toward the door. My fingers hesitated on the handle for just a fraction of a second before I pulled it open.
And there he was.
Standing before me was a tall man, his presence commanding yet oddly casual. His body was lean and muscular, the kind of strength that wasn't bulky but undeniable. Snow-white hair framed his face, wild and spiked, while a black blindfold covered his eyes, propping up strands of his hair into a sharper style. His outfit was simple yet distinct: a dark blue zip-up jacket with a broad high collar, slim-fit black pants, and polished black boots.
Even without seeing his eyes, I knew who he was.
"Hello there," Gojo Satoru said, flashing a cheerful, disarming smile.
My heart skipped, though I kept my face calm. "Hello. How can I help you?" My voice carried none of the recognition boiling inside me. Of course I knew him. Of course I had expected him. But I couldn't let that slip.
Gojo tilted his head slightly, still smiling. "Well, wouldn't it be better if we talk inside the house?"
I paused for a moment, then nodded. "Of course. Please, come in."
I guided him toward the sofa, the same one I had been lounging on just minutes earlier. His presence filled the room effortlessly, as if he owned the space.
"What do you prefer?" I asked, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "Tea or coffee?"
"Tea," he answered almost instantly. His grin widened. "I've got a bit of a sweet tooth, you see."
A small chuckle escaped me despite the tension curling in my chest. "Alright then. Just give me five minutes."
I turned toward the kitchen, forcing my steps to remain calm, though inside I could feel it — the weight of his gaze even behind that blindfold, the quiet storm of cursed energy rolling off him like a tide.
This was it. The meeting I had known was inevitable.