"Get out."
Nanami Kira stared at the hand sprawled across his bed. White hair fanned out over the entire mattress.
"My, how cold."
Hoshino Ei rolled over, her expression cool and remote, those wine-red eyes blinking up at him.
"But didn't Kira-kun hear what the maid said?"
"Don't wander around at night. If you throw me out, I'm done for!"
Nanami Kira looked down at Hoshino Ei. Not a flicker of expression on his face.
"You can sleep in the box. Or with Stray Cat."
Nanami Kira rejected all attempts to get close to him. His sense of personal space was absolute. Between himself and other people there would always be a barrier—and no one would ever breach it.
Everyone who tried to get close would, in the end, be hurt.
"Get off the bed."
"I could use my hands to [bleep], and then use my fingers to [bleep], and finally [bleep bleep bleep] to make it up to you. Deal?"
Hoshino Ei pressed her palms together, eyes wide and expectant, blinking up at Nanami Kira like a ragdoll cat.
The rain pattered on outside. Far-off mountains dissolved into the darkness, nothing left of them but a faint smudge. The Gothic clock tower loomed beyond the window, there and not there.
Hoshino Ei sat in her black Lolita dress, looking as though she'd stepped straight out of a fairy tale. One thin strap had slipped slightly off her shoulder, baring a delicate collarbone. Her slender hands pressed against the mattress, and where she pushed down, the faintest trace of veins showed through.
Once upon a time, this sight might have set Nanami Kira's fingernails growing.
But Nanami Kira was no longer the man he'd once been. He had endured countless "handshake events" by now—watched one sweaty, greasy paw after another defile those beautiful hands, those pure little hands, right before his eyes. After so many rounds of that particular brand of psychological trauma, his heart had been tempered to steel. He had achieved an unshakeable equanimity, had reached the exalted plane where the Mona Lisa herself could stand before him and he would not so much as twitch.
Thanks, Todo.
If the old Nanami Kira could have been described as a nightclub virgin, the current one was a copper pea that no mill could grind and no wok could fry, the silver-speared veteran who'd seen it all. Outwardly placid, inwardly even more so, perhaps even deigning to think:
Is that all?
"But I'm serious."
Hoshino Ei fixed her gaze on Nanami Kira. Her delicate face wore its usual frost, but her voice was earnest.
"She told us not to go out at night. That might be one of Amber Mansion's rules. So for these past two nights I've been dismissing my Shikigami ability at nightfall."
"But do you want me to test it? What if that woman is lying? I'll use my Shikigami body to find out—I've got three lives, after all..."
"Hoshino Ei."
Nanami Kira cut her off. His voice was calm, undisturbed.
"Your ability is crucial for cracking this situation. Which means your life has value to me. Significant tactical value."
He looked down at her and said quietly:
"Don't throw your life away so easily. Don't treat it as something cheap. Don't look down on your own soul."
"Because we've already established a Binding Vow. Words given form as contract. Keeping one's word is a virtue."
"And besides—"
He gazed out at the pitch-black corridor beyond the door—a yawning darkness that looked ready to swallow everything. The corner of his mouth lifted, just barely.
"I am Nanami Kira."
"Fortune is always on my side. Everything that tries to curse me will die. I will overcome every obstacle."
He said it softly:
"And in the end, I will find my quiet happiness."
The fourth day arrived.
September 25th.
The auction officially began.
Old and new, Past and Present, decay and rebirth—within this enigmatic Western-style mansion, the game was underway.
Of course, Hoshino Ei still did not get to sleep in the bed that night. Nanami Kira had seized her by the scruff of the neck and dropped her unceremoniously off the edge.
Outside, the drizzle continued. A thin, persistent autumn rain soaked the season, and the temperature was low.
It was called an auction, but nothing about it felt formal. No auctioneer. No gavel. Not even bidding rules.
They were in a room of modest size, a fireplace crackling, its warm light painting every face and dyeing their shadows a ruddy amber.
Rain droned beyond the windows. Inside, the new fire murmured gently. There was, despite everything, a certain coziness to it.
The Master of Amber Mansion still had not returned. Per the prior arrangement, Jasmine would host the auction in his stead.
"What on earth are you people doing?!"
A young woman had reached her limit. Her features were lovely, her gown exquisite, and her delicate brows were drawn into a sharp frown.
"Is this how the Master of Amber Mansion treats his guests?"
"A wretched place like this—it's a disgrace to any house of noble standing!"
Nanami Kira knew this young lady's surname. Minamoto, a lineage of extraordinary prestige, traceable to the Japanese imperial line.
No wonder she carried herself with such pride.
The jujutsu world had always been a place where bloodline mattered.
"Miss Minamoto, please calm down."
The man in the tailcoat smiled, his handsome face catching the firelight. His tone was easy.
"With a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer like myself present, I assure you nothing untoward will happen."
He was visibly pleased with his own rank.
Good. The bird that sticks its head out gets shot.
Nanami Kira made a quick mental profile of the guests around him.
Nearest to him: a stately, elegant woman, tall and poised. Cursed Energy around Grade 2. No calluses on her hands—didn't seem to be a Cursed Tool user.
Across from him: a man who looked around forty, vigorous despite his age and sharp of eye. Nanami Kira didn't recognize him—probably from some reclusive clan. A smoker; the smell clung to him. He wore a perpetual, good-natured smile.
At the far left: two couples, both young. They appeared to belong to the same family. Their Cursed Energy signatures hovered around Semi-Grade 1.
In terms of raw strength, frankly, everyone here was trash.
Nanami Kira could wipe the floor with all of them.
And yet the new Master of Amber Mansion was to be chosen from among them—which meant the game's criteria had nothing to do with power.
Something else entirely.
"I truly am terribly sorry. The Master had matters to attend to and could not be here."
Jasmine bowed yet again. "I'm sorry" seemed to be her most-used phrase.
"Ahem. As I'm sure you all know, Amber Mansion was built during the Showa era. Its predecessor was the residence of Lord Tachibana no Naramaro, dating to the ninth year of Tenpyo-Shoho. After his death, it was abandoned..."
Nanami Kira was already familiar with this period of history. The Tachibana and Fujiwara clans had vied for dominance at court, locked in a bitter tug-of-war, until at last the Tachibana patriarch was falsely accused of rebellion and overthrown. The Tachibana clan fell into decline, stripped of their seat among the court nobles.
It was not until the rise of Empress Danrin that the Tachibana line was restored.
"And so, the auction officially begins."
Jasmine clapped her hands lightly, tilting her head.
"The first item: a fragmentary travel manuscript by Master Manyo of the Nara period, written during his journey across Shikoku."
The manuscript... which is currently tucked inside my coat. There hasn't been a chance to return it. Where is she getting another copy to auction?
Her eyes found Nanami Kira's. Black irises, beautiful as obsidian.
"Kira-kun bid on a previous night. One-third of a soul. Does anyone wish to raise the price?"
One-third of a soul?
One-third of a soul... Hoshino Ei!
Nanami Kira lifted his gaze and met Jasmine's eyes. She smiled as she explained:
"The auction began the moment you set foot on this estate."
"When Miss Hoshino Ei took the manuscript, the transaction was already complete. One-third of a soul."
She surveyed the room.
"No other bids?"
The guests sat in stunned silence, still processing.
"Three. Two. One. Sold."
Nanami Kira felt a searing heat in his chest. He looked down. The box nestled in his inner coat pocket had burst into flames—and a small, pale hand was thrashing inside the black fire, a wail rising from somewhere deep in its soul, weeping.
A girl's silhouette flickered in and out of the firelight. Her Lolita dress. Her snow-white hair. Her wine-red eyes, cool as the last remnants of spring frost.
All of it, every last trace, melting away into sunlight.
"Don't throw your life away so easily. Don't treat it as something cheap. Don't look down on your own soul."
"Because we've already established a Binding Vow. Words given form as contract. Keeping one's word is a virtue."
Nanami Kira raised his head. His calm eyes looked at Jasmine the way one looks at a corpse—utterly devoid of feeling.
His fingernails began to grow wildly.