▬▬ willful souls, otherside ventures

FRIDAY FUCKING NIGHT FINALLY CAME!

After your missions, you purchased a very infamous 96% spirited consumable alcohol on your way home. You also had snacks, cigarette packs, and most especially, crystal meth.

You were laughing like a deranged person you were, grinding up the pieces of it into fine powder in an attempt to snort it. You could also dissolve it in water and inject it intravenously, but you forgot to get syringes in the lab.

Typically, buying a few packets would cost high . . . But you didn't need to. You were a fucking doctor, you could make your own.

All of those late-night duties in the morgue laboratory? Huh. You smirked. Bold of them to assume you were working, but you were just doing illegal drugs.

"Ah . . . I'll be terminated if the higher-ups found this," you sang in a sadistic manner. Nevertheless, you didn't care.

You stripped your clothes off, leaving yourself with your sports bra and panty shorts. And bringing all of your "happy" pills, you went and laid on your bed.

You didn't know what stuff you'd do first, but you started with the 96% vodka, anyway.

You twisted the lid open, then caught the whiff of it. It already burned in your nostrils, flinching in an instant. This kind of strong booze could never be consumed on an empty stomach, so while you were smoking, you started eating something heavy; you'd done that before, and it was a horrible experience of vomiting.

You sighed. Although this place was lonely, you were actually comforted by it. You had chosen to remain alone for this evening and got intoxicated until you pass out. Before doing so, you checked the ingredients listed on the tag. "Ethanol" as per usual. C2H6O, indicating that it contained two carbons and one oxygen. Or the C2H5OH, providing a little more detail, indicating that there was a hydroxyl group (-OH) at the end of the 2-carbon chain.

You actually didn't give the slightest shit about it, but your toxicologist side was interrupting you. Drinking was just a way to attempt to solve an issue by escaping it internally, knowing at some point, no matter agonizing, you had to confront what it was that went wrong. And why.

Going back to your drinking session, the vodka looked like regular lemonade, but it was actually stronger than a hand sanitizer. It was made from grain, but an unfinished ingredient, thus it couldn't be consumed directly—or at least dilute in ice or water.

Who gives a fuck about that?

Continued consuming one shot directly.

It was like getting punched in the solar plexus, couldn't even make a straight face.

"Fuck, daddy has no chilleee," you muttered, wincing.

Again, you poured full on your shot glass and took another straight gulp.

Truly, it was as if you were sipping the purest expression of alcohol you could come by. While it wasn't completely flavorless, the mild notes of lemon, orange peel, and white pepper weren't significant in the face of its blistering booziness, because it tasted more like gasoline.

And you should be worried, knowing what gasoline tasted like.

Your lips were burning, down to your throat, liver, and stomach. The drink literally went from liquid to gas in your mouth.

If having another shot of it, your happy time might not last.

Then you paid your attention to the methamphetamine.

You chuckled lunatically.

One . . . Two . . . Or maybe three.

Upon sniffing the inhalants, entering the bloodstream, the drugs traveled quickly to your brain, thus eliciting intense effects shortly after.

You noticed yourself holding your laughter just at the sight of the slightest thing. Distorted visual perception, disorientation, and feeling like your surrounding were shifting and furthering away or closing than they really were.

You were also hearing yourself, then you helplessly burst into laughter . . . Because all you could hear and see was yourself, laughing, clowning and trolling . . . You could never understand why.

Was drugging yourself, feeling like wanting to die, would fill the void inside you?

It might not a big deal to anyone . . . Only if you could die, right now, like now on your bed in tears.

You neither knew what time did you pass out last night, nor the reason for waking up, but all you knew was the smell of the vodka and chemicals last night.

"Fuck . . ." you groaned, grabbing your hair for wanting to crack open your skull and remove the pain.

The nausea, the thirst, the hunger. Your eyes hurt too much that you couldn't open them.

Your brain felt like it would swell beyond the capacity of your skull and now your urge to vomit was too strong to ignore. You would bump to the furniture while rushing to your bathroom. It made you feel so wretched while throwing up. Sinking your legs on the tiled floor, you were panting and sweating hard. You couldn't even keep up with your posture, because you wanted to faint once again from all the pain.

Again your stomach lurched, and the toilet bowl was there to guide you through.

There must be some painkillers to relieve you, perhaps some medicines to end your puking misery.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you pressed your back on the wall. You were too enthusiastic about numbing yourself last night, not considering your 'day' today.

Too many jobs to do, so much mess, and your life in tatters.

Not even a minute passed by when you heard knocks on your front door.

You thought it was just the pulsing knocks on your head, but they were not.

After you gathered your wobbling strength, you stood on your feet, swaying, almost losing your balance, and reaching for the walls to help you walk straight. You didn't even think of gurgling your mouth, much more washing your face smeared with dried saliva and puke.

But oh, thank goodness that you were able to reach the door.

You opened it.

Instant regret when the sunlight had reached your eyes.

You immediately crouched down and covered your eyes.

"Ugh . . ! Who the fuck would knock on my door this fucking early?!" you snapped, feeling the sensation of turning into dust under the range of the sun.

"Huh?" scoffed Maki obnoxiously. "Who the fuck are you?"

It was natural; no one ever in this school had seen you half-naked . . . Not to mention your unhidden cursed marks (known as tattoos for others).

You recognized the voice. Opening a half-lidded eye, squinting, you looked at what was in front of you.

"Ah," you mumbled, scratching your hair in annoyance, "just the devil's spawns."

Your students were early to pay you a visit. Troublesome.

"Sensei?" It was Nobara. "Is that you?"

"Are you a yakuza?" Megumi asked.

"She's a yakuza," Panda seconded.

"Salmon."

You were too light-headed to give them your full attention, thus you shut your door close again.

"O-Oii!" All of them protested.

But as you reached your living area, you didn't notice a bottle randomly scattered on the floor.

You stepped on it.

And you slipped.

Then you sprawled onto the wooden surface with a crashing thump. The room swirled before your eyes, only becoming stationary once regaining your feeble composure.

You inhaled loudly, "THE FUUUUCCCKKKKKKK!!" cursing as you exhaled.

This morning's distress was the kind of self-sabotage you prepared after the fun you set last night. You wanted to regret or made a fuss, but you couldn't blame your life's choices.

Outside, your students heard your holler and came rushing to your aide.

But instead of worrying about you, they more noticed the smell and unusual paraphernalia lingering in your room.

"What's this place?"

You imagined them cringing at you—judging you even.

Abruptly facing them, you snarled, "Who gave you the permission to enter?" Your voice was controlled, when you added with a raised brow, "In a fucking lady's room?"

Nobara was quick to respond upon hearing you. "Hey, you louts! Get the duck out!" Then she one-by-one threw the boys out.

Yeah, that helps . . .

You just wanna be alone for now; you didn't want a soul to witness, much more to know, your immoralities.

"What do you want?" you sighed, your head was still pounding. "Ugh, I feel like shit."

"If you don't have something to do today, train with us," Maki said.

"Eh . . ." you uttered, grabbing the chair to stand up. "In case you're forgetting the date today, it's fucking Saturday. And Saturday is a fucking misery; I still fucking need to do my missions. And missions fucking sucks after a night of intoxication . . . Fucking shit. I hate this fucking life. Why the fuck I'm a sorcerer?"

"You could just simply say no, good grief," Maki retorted.

As you went to your dresser, choosing what to wear, it was when Nobara joined you.

"I'll choose for you, sensei!" She prompted giddily.

You let her; she must be enjoying dressing up. Stepping aside, you watched her with a heavy head and lazy eyes.

Whilst Maki was inspecting you close, a hand resting on her chin. "You got pretty lots of inks, huh?"

"Uh, yeah, I had a pretty lot of teenage rebellions, y'see." And they weren't 'ink', but cursed marks. The only parts of the cursed mark you concealed were the face and hands—the obvious ones. You usually wore long-sleeved tops, pants, and closed shoes.

Maki only hummed.

"Maki-san is also rebelling against her family," Nobara commented while holding a black fitted, turtle-necked cotton long-sleeves, only looking what to pair for it.

"Really?" you slyly smiled. "Want a tip to aggravate more of your family?"

The Zen'in lass quizzically looked at you. "What's that?" She was curious, even though.

"Total annihilation," you said with a cold voice, eyes slanted devilishly. That was true, because your teenage rebellion resulted in the annihilation of your clan.

"Tch, I shouldn't have asked," Maki hissed, regarding your remark as ridicule. "Your breaths stink, by the way."

"He-he, I won't deny."

"Oi, Nobara, let's go." Maki invited her to leave.

"Hai, hai~ just a second," Nobara chanted happily and pulled black cargo pants. "Here, sensei!" She handed you the clothes she picked. "Well then, off we go! Have a fabulous day!"

You let out low chuckling hums, sardonic enough.

Fabulous day?

Fuck that.

You were already in the condominium building Gojo told you about—Novus Skyscraper. You were looking for the cursed spirit roaming around here floor by floor.

Using the elevator to look out for curse residuals, but only made you more nauseous.

"Fuck motion sickness . . ." You wanted to shout your frustrations inside the elevator car; as the lift went up, you were experiencing a different amount of gravitational forces than you had on the ground.

Talking the stairs would be useless as well.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I'm gonna throw up.

The elevator chimed, indicating you had reached the new floor. While you reposed your head on the elevator buttons, you were holding back the sudden rise of the contents from your stomach to your throat.

Fuck the medicines, too; they were not working.

When the door was about to close, you reached your arm to prevent it from.

Residuals . . . I need to look for residuals.

Although there was a crippling, sharp pain in your head that was preventing you to move freely, you shifted your head behind the elevator door and peered at the seventh floor of the skyscraper.

Once you did, your sights were blocked.

You weren't sure if it was a man's chest or it was just your sights dimming . . .

"You . . ."

Your frown escalated when you heard a voice.

"What are you doing here?"

Now you recognized the voice.

You lined your gazes upward, plastering a hideous, lethargic grin.

"Oh-ho, it's Nananananananami Kento-san~ What a coincidence, ne?"

A sigh was already withdrawn between the gaps of his thin lips. "Ah, yes, coincidence." Nanami always had that expressionless facade. And a bit of sarcasm. "Well then, goodbye." He was turned his back, going in a different direction.

"Yoyoyoyoyoyooo." You sluggishly reached out for him, but he was already a few meters away from you. Stepping out of the elevator car, you called out, "Chotto matte~"

Yet Nanami didn't want to be discourteous to his colleague. With a small distance, he halted from his pace and peered at you over his shoulder.

"I'm actually here for a mission," you spoke as soon as he gave you a small portion of his attention. "There have been missing civilians lately . . . I'm wondering if Nanami-san knows something."

You actually didn't know where did you have the strength to talk straightly and formally when your head was splitting in two.

This time, the jaded sorcerer had fully turned his front to you. And, at first sight, he already discerned that you were totally inebriated. Given the fact that it was Friday yesterday, you had the liberty to consume all of the narcotics you wanted last night. What only appalled him was why you had to go to work in a debilitated state? It was unethical to do it so.

"I'm aware of it as well," he answered with his calm and naturally demuring voice. "In fact, I've been doing a personal investigation myself, yet it's a let-down that I haven't seen any strange occurrences."

You hummed, accompanied by a series of nods. You had no idea what to reply, especially since your mind was all over the place. Oh, your sights were actually doubling, too.

When Nanami caught that you had nothing to ask him more, he bid his goodbye and started to walk further.

You turned around as well, about to enter the lift once again. But because you still had the hangover, just a slight movement could cause a huge tremor in your motion sensors.

You felt queasy, pained, and winded all at once. When you were about to lose your balance, you outstretched the wall, plunging your head on it. Bending over, it was as if the world shook when a thick rush of fluid revolted on your diaphragm—it filled your mouth, you spilled it out, splashing generously on the tiled floor, covering the designs.

You shut your eyes close, muttering endless curses in your mind.

What was more disgusting was that you did it twice. Thrice, maybe.

On the other hand, Nanami was not afar when he heard ugly, retching noises. Not too long when he smelled a sharp, winy stench filling the cool air.

He looked back. It felt like his rationality slipped out of his body for mere seconds. He contemplated if he would help you, but his actions functioned faster than his thoughts.

Nanami came hurrying near you as he supported you by grabbing your shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked, not really emphasizing his concern.

You didn't reply; your head was just in the spiraling maze.

The blonde sighed, taking out of his handkerchief, and wiped your mouth. "You should have rested if you're not feeling well."

As much as he wanted to scold you, it was useless because your focus was on the bitter, putrid taste in your mouth.

Sighing once again, the gentleman held you tight and began guiding you. "All right now, come on." Then slowly leasing you to a gender-neutral restroom.

No complaints left his mouth—although he really wanted to—because he was already here, helping you already.

In all actuality, you could manage on your own, but you wanted to be dramatic once in a while. Besides, you wouldn't reach this place if your sheer willpower was weak.

lmao. What you really wanted to say. As of you had the sheer willpower. You came here only because you wanted to leave your humble cottage as known as the dormitory.

Upon reaching one of the cubicles, Nanami graced you with comforting pats on the back, thinking it would ease your ill sensations. But it didn't take long when he immediately went outside to give you some space.

And when you had nothing to vomit (your stomach was emptied), it somehow relieved you. Upon finishing your face-to-face session with the toilet bowl, you rose from the floor and walked to the lavatory. You saw your reflection in the mirror. Again, oh again, you would always be looking so horrible.

I guess Nanami has left.

Either way, you washed your face.

You came here for the reason to finish your mission that fasts, but it appeared that the cursed spirit was smart and cunning enough. Even Nanami, the renounced and respected Grade 1 sorcerer, also confirmed he hadn't seen anything strange.

Pondering, what kind of cursed technique did it have? They'd concealed their presence so well.

You finished fixing yourself shortly. Then you sighed very loudly, massaging your temples. Getting the painkillers on your bag, you were irritated even more just seeing them.

"Damn these medicines are not working properly!" you grumbled. "I'm gonna faken sue all of the doctors who made these!"

You were about to swallow the medicines, there was a hand that prevented you from it. You flew your gaze sideways, and it dawned on you that it was Nanami.

"As if that will help." There was always a tiring sigh whenever he spoke to you.

"Oh, I thought you've left," you uttered, slightly in trance.

"I just called the housekeeping," he replied while his grasp on your arm loosened, "to clean up your mess."

It must be late for you to feel, but your whole being was coated with embarrassment. You retched in a public area. While in your fucking mission.

"Yeah, I did fuck it up." You chuckled, eyes downcast, downright morally defeated. "I'm sorry, I guess."

The blonde man shook his head, turning his heels on you. "Let's go. The physician is waiting."

"Hah?" For a moment, the narcotics and alcohol steering your head disappeared.

"I set you a check-up," Nanami answered as if he was so fed up with you.

"Eh? But I don't need to!" You chased after him as he exited the restroom already.

Does this condominium building is too luxurious that it has its own medical center?

"Oi, Na-na-mi~!" you called in a form of singing—whining, more likely. "Anywhere but seeing doctor . . ."

He briefly gazed at you sideways. "Is there a problem with that?"

He was already helping you, you appreciated that thus you were not in the position to turn down his assistance. Yet you had a reason.

"Doctors are good spotters of liars. I'll just lie in front of them."

"Hmm, why? Are you on drugs?"

It was as if Nanami saw right through you. You flustered, even more, pausing on your tracks, while the blonde proceeded a few more steps before looking back at you.

"You knew?" you asked carefully.

He sighed, crossing his arms. Even under his signature sunglasses, his scowl at you got darker. "So I was right."

It caught you by surprise when asking you if you were drugs based on speculations.

"It's a trick question!' you exclaimed while pointing at him, then you grumbled, "Hnghhhh! I can't believe I fell for that!"

He surely knew how to pull a psychological question on you.

Swiftly turning around, he told you, "I'm going to report this Gojo-san."

"Eh?" You took huge strides to chase him. "Don't do that."

The two of you kept walking—you, following him—but he didn't spare you a glance.

"What you did is a grave misconduct," said him. "Not only you are a teacher, but a Grade 1 sorcerer as well."

Your shoulders sagged, his cause wasn't feasible enough. "I have the very freedom every Friday night, right?

"But it won't justify your unlawful deeds. There are demerits for that."

"Can you just overlook it?" you said, in case he'd just forget about you going here—vomiting because of over intoxication.

All of the sudden, Nanami took a pause in walking, giving his sharp gazes to you. His slanted eyes behind his glasses pierced yours, making a stinging sensation at your waning composure.

"Unlawful is unlawful, Murphy Ryusei-san." Now he had called you with your full fake name, it emphasized his wavering tolerance for you. "I could get you arrested right now if I wanted to."

You weren't sure how much it had caused you; for you only stalled for an answer with blown eyes and parted lips mouth.

Nanami Kento was too uptight in following the worldly rules and regulations that it wouldn't matter even if you were his colleague.

And why the fuck it's not the same when it comes to him?

If he was just another person—or another Gojo Satoru—you would definitely curse and slander them. Like, "Fuck your motherfucking principles, fucker! Fuck you!" with both of your middle fingers saluted.

Was it because authority resided in him, that was why you were unconsciously respecting him? Getting intimidated, perhaps? Not that you cared, anyway.

You huffed, pouting with an acrid look on your face.

Again, Nanami sighed, having no choice but to give you a small consideration. "If you're sorry enough, I'll overlook this for once. But I'd inform Gojo-san, nonetheless."

"Hmph, the next time, I won't fall for your word puzzles. Tch. I just got unlucky because I'm faken high right now."

He arched a brow. "Even you won't say, the signs on your face tell otherwise."

You deadpanned, catching the significance between the lines of his words. "You knew from that start?"

"It doesn't need a scientific formula to figure it out, you see." He shrugged it off as he continued his pace.

You followed, stomping your feet each step. Well, as far as you could tell, the ache on your head had lessened.

The both of you were walking. Then took the elevator, went down the ground floor, exited the building, and went somewhere you didn't know. Nanami didn't let you hear his thoughts, and you were fine by it. Slow walking somehow made your head clear.

And if Nanami was bothered by you following him, he would have said it so, but he was just letting you.

Without words of complaints, you followed. You didn't mind . . . And you wouldn't, even if he would go to lead you to jail.

You inwardly chuckled. Might as well ask him. As you walked on the sidewalk, Nanami meters apart from you, you bolted to your feet.

"Nanami, where are we going?" you asked as you touched his sleeve.

He looked back, coming to a halt. "I was wondering when you might ask."

"You should tell me instead," you said, and then you pursed your lip, not wanting to start on a sour note. "I suppose you're tired of talking to me."

He let out a humming scoff. "I'm surprised you're aware of that fact."

"Oh please, it doesn't need silence to be aware," you grinned sarcastically.

Nanami only met your gaze and looked backed again. "You must be hungry; you should eat."

You had just realized by now: you two stopped in front of a bakery shop.

BakeryBakery.

The name of the shop.

Sounds fancy for bread.

And yes, you hadn't eaten anything properly since yesterday. It must be one of the reasons why you feel so dizzy.

Once stepping inside, greeted by the bread girl, you were surprised by the familiarity of her voice.

"Oh, it's been a while, ne?" she beamed very sweetly.

"Ah, yes, it's been a while," Nanami replied, and there was a soft indication in his voice.

It seemed like they knew each other.

Bread girl noticed you, then she bowed. "Irashaimase!"

You smiled, "Hello."

You put your attention in the displayed pastries and savory bread available. The smell and appearance of each made your mouth salivate and your stomach growled even more. Getting a tray and clamps.

"Nanami!" you called full of excitement. "Can I get whatever I want?"

Glancing, he answered, "Do what you want."

"Yay~" you cheered. "You're paying?"

He looked ruefully at you. "For now, I'd say." He came to his feet next, taking a tray and clamp himself, and moved near you to have the bread of his choice. "Nothing comes for free, nowadays. You'll be paying next time."

"Aye," you responded, eyeing the bread carefully, "Next time, right? Yosh, yosh."

Later that time in the bakery, both of you were done picking bread and ready to pay for them. You had your tray filled with different kinds of bread, whilst Nanami, only had a baguette on his.

"This is quite a lot," the bread girl commented to your orders, her face rendered with bubble features.

"Yes; Nanami's paying, so," you chuckled, trying to be sober.

The lady mirrored your bright energy. "That's so nice! Are you two dating–" suddenly, there was a hesitation in her voice– "perhaps?"

You only realized now as well. Then you gasped, tracing your eyes filled with sparkles at the man. "Nanami . . . Are we—"

"No, we are not." There was a stern rejection on his tone, his tepid blue eyes were accentuated along with his permanent scowl.

"Aha," you uttered, your expressions reverting to an indifferent face. "Yep. We're not. Just your typical senpai and kouhai walk."

Lmao.

Although Nanami said nothing after your remark, you knew that he would never acknowledge you as a kouhai.

As soon as Nanami paid both of your orders, you bid your goodbye to the bread girl and she did the same.

Just the second the two of you exited the bakery, you attempted to freed another demanding request.

"Nanamiiiiiiii! Let's buy some coffee! Or ice cream!"

"What are you? A child?" He was so done with you.

"You can't just eat without drinking, y'know?"

You had a point, and he had no qualms about it.

The coffee shop wasn't far enough from the bakery, it seemed like the walk was interminable because of the thick silence between you two. Like oceans apart.

You ordered the most refreshing coffee drink that this shop could offer and Nanami was fine with a regular espresso.

The shop had lesser customers this time of the day, thus you and Nanami sat on the corner free seat. Soft sunlight in the early afternoon, in the months of late summer, was shining through the shop's glass window onto the laminated table. You had set the bread and frappe that Nanami purchased so that by digesting them, you could soothe your aching stomach and flailing energy.

Nanami was just watching you eating fast, even stuffing your cheeks like a squirrel. You should be; you needed to finish your food right and your duty as a sorcerer couldn't wait that long.

He noticed that you weren't really paying attention to your health. One of the merits of having an immortal life, he thought. Yet you must be mindful of the Vow.

"How about you?" he prompted while sipping his cup of coffee.

Question marks popped over your head, you couldn't reply for your mouth was full.

"Have you found peculiar things in the building?"

You chewed quickly. It was quite shameful for you were making weird sounds while biting down, but you didn't really care. Having huge gulps of your frappe, helping you to dissolve the bread on your mouth, you exhaled the contentment upon eating.

"Sa~, dunno, really," you answered, laid-back. "I have no idea if it's just me or the work of a cursed spirit, but my mind was literally in the clouds a while ago."

"It's you." Nanami groaned, eyebrows frowning. He wanted to call you an idiot, but he held his tongue. "But I'm surprised you're regaining your composure fast."

It was true and he witnessed it; a little over half an hour just passed, the shitty look on your face was profound, but now, you were radiating along with the placid sunlight.

"Mmn!" You nodded. "Because, y'know, I have the automatic machinery-like cursed energy. I'd recover faster than a normal human. And I let it all out a while ago."

The almond-palette man pursed his lips with a slight shrug. Your reason was fair, he'd say.

"If I'd quote your words, by damaging your body, you won't revert to what you are?" Nanami inquired.

"Yes," you concurred. "Unless I died . . . Something like that."

He made downward motions of his head. "Less damaging effects won't likely activate your innate technique, huh?"

"Again, yes." You had no problem telling him these facts. Whether giving him your weaknesses and drawbacks. "But the same as a normal-functioning human, I'd gained weight if I ate a lot or lose weight if I starved myself. It same goes for if I got non-fatal wounds and bruises, that innate technique won't be triggered."

"I see that you're very susceptible to tortures and slow death, huh?" he said.

You clipped nods. "That's why I always prefer instant death, because agonizing pain is mendokuse. Gojo Satoru must have realized that as well, so he was able to set the conditions for the Vow." You paused to take another sip of your drink, then added shortly, "Thus it's relevant to conclude that in order to defeat me, make me fall asleep. Like, for forever. Remember the Mahito Incident in the school? You knocked me out instead of going to a final blow."

"Well, it's indecent to attack a civilian without a reason, so." Nanami was casual enough to engage in a conversation with you. "Haven't you tried that yet?"

"Nani?"

"Sleeping. Like forever."

"Oh, I did," you replied, opening another piece of bread. "The 'cryogenic sleep' that was invented before and I donated my near-dead body as a test subject. But some groups back in the day weren't in favor of it, thus they sabotaged the facility."

"Then?"

"All of the subjects, except me, were dead. And I don't know if it's enjoyable," you continued mumbling. "Sleep is a weird thing, yes? It's a lot like dying, because sleep is a human death rehearsal. Ha ha ha."

Of course, this conversation with you wouldn't be a you-ish-like conversation without saying any existentialism notions.

"But," you added fast, "cheating death through sleep is not death at all. I remember waking up losing my memories (though gradually regaining them), then I raced against time in an attempt to resume normalcy and catch up on the lost time of my life."

You always had a story to tell, and Nanami admitted to himself that it was quite compelling listening to you.

About an hour later, you and Nanami had indeed left the shop and were walking back to the building through the long lane of the sidewalk. Beside you were the plant strips, plucking some soft young leaves from a plant you didn't know what was called, cupping it between your palms, and tearing them apart after. You gaily played as you strolled along, while Nanami walked beside you, ignoring you, face averted.

At length, reaching the condominium building, you two entered through the wide double doors, and there was no sign of life in the strikingly costly interiors. There were lesser people, mostly the staff and workers who had dispirited expressions on each face.

"All's quiet, isn't it?" You struck the dialogue. Nanami only nodded. "Do you mind if we went further investigating?" And it was as though a light bulb gleamed on your head. "Wait, don't you have another mission to do today, Nanami?"

"What do you think I'm doing already?" He returned the question.

"Eh?"

He let out a sigh. "I've received a call from a higher-up this morning, saying that my mission would be here and someone would arrive to have a joint mission. Before I knew it, it is you."

Indeed you had the delightful feeling just then that you would be completing this mission with Nanami, thus you could proceed to enjoy working to your heart's content.

When he saw your happy face, Nanami said, "You're unusually earnest, ne?"

"Why won't I?" you chattered happily. "I have someone to share some burden with."

Nanami almost rolled his eyes, but he somehow regarded it as satire. Sharing the same burden was a sorcerer thing. That included you as —even for an ancient sorcerer like you. As the saying went, Work is shit.

"I know that you work fast; let's get this job over as sooner as possible."

"But I wonder what kind of cursed technique it has?" you queried. "No residuals, no presence, no signs. As in zero. Zilch. Nada."

"I don't believe we have a choice. Let's search for the whole building."

Immediately, your face blanched, lips tugging down with a small pout. "A high-rise building—more than thirty floors, at least sixty square meters per floor, and more than seven hundred rooms . . ."

"Stop grumbling and complaining," Nanami scolded you calmly. "We should gather information from the employees."

Conducting investigation through different perspectives took both of you an hour, though it was Nanami who mostly did the questioning.

Being a medium—an ugly description for sorcery—was a shady job, and asking corporate employees regarding the unusual happenings in this building was equally shady.

YET!

Fucking yet!

Nanami was very level-headed, delivering each question with articulateness and full of respect. As expected for a former salaryman. With his voice, he put everyone at ease, drew them into trusting him, resulting in them talking about their chilling experiences. He got the information you two wanted as, everything that was needed.

"It's been nearly 100 years since this building was first opened its doors to the public, but marked by a tragedy that has escalated in the recent years," said the oldest worker here.

"Those unexplainable events skyrocketed when the mysterious death of a high school student." One statement from another person.

"Although the authorities ruled the cause of death as accidental or as suicide, the sleuths have come up with a myriad of theories about the tragedy, involving everything from murder conspiracies to evil spirits." A lobbyist informed.

"It correlates with the legendary Elevator Game—most popular with the name 'Elevator to Another World'."

"'Ah, yes, yes!" A security guard backed up the other's words. "It's why most of the employees or tenants are so afraid of using the elevators; although taking the stairs is grueling, they have no other choice."

There were numerous instructions for it, but for the sake of proving the testimonies, you and Nanami rode one of the elevators—though it strictly prescribed that if one was gonna try the game, one should be alone. Curses normally wouldn't care about the numbers, as long as they were having victims.

"Must be really a work of a cursed spirit," you yawned, "a special grade one."

"Yes," Nanami agreed. "Another incomplete domain spawned by special grade curse that changes the physics of the room."

Until now, none of the curses had appeared. Occasional small-fry curses only. They must be wary by the presence of yours and Nanami's.

"We should stay vigilant," the 7:3 sorcerer spoke while getting his blunt blade from the holster on his back. "And the civilians are our top priority."

"Yeah, yeah, copisssshhhhhh." You were just looking at the elevator's indication of what you two were in, The destination was on the tenth floor—going up from the seventh floor.

As the elevator reached the tenth floor, you told Nanami to push the fifth-floor button since he was near to the panel.

You were skeptical of the sudden silence, getting no responses from Nanami.

Slowly shifting your gaze on your right, then you stared in disbelief when you were now alone inside the lift.

Nanami wasn't here . . .

Not of his voice, not even a faint of his presence.

Where . . .

Where would he be?

A sudden attack from the enemy?

What a sneaky son-of-a-bitch.

But as for the rule, you must proceed and finish the given instructions, because if you didn't, you'd be transported in the other dimension.

You found it quite funny, for your fellow sorcerer—Nanami Kento—had already spirited away.

uhmmm.... y/n be like:
DADDY? SORRY? DDADDY? DADDY?
SORRY. DADDY SORRYYY SORRYYY
DADDY UGH 🥺

that's basically me tho

— HANDTHE;REND —