At ten in the morning, the sun carried the crisp dryness of early autumn. Toyokawa Sakiko and Kochō Shinobu walked shoulder to shoulder out through Shuchiin Academy's old, solemn gate.
Only then did Sakiko finally release the "gap" viewpoint between reality and the cognitive world. The black-and-red tint peeled away, and sound, color, and touch snapped into sharp focus again.
"Whew… finally out," Sakiko exhaled.
She turned to Shinobu with a gentle smile and rummaged through the handbag she carried. A moment later, she produced a storage device identical to the one she'd handed Shinomiya Kaguya.
"Here, Shinobu—take this. While you're in my world, it'll make storing things way more convenient."
Shinobu accepted it with quiet curiosity. "This is the same spatial storage device from earlier?"
"Mm." Sakiko tugged Shinobu into the shade of a roadside tree, away from the few passersby, and explained in a lowered voice.
"In my world, it's perfect for carrying personal items. The principle is that my world has a built-in mental dimension that's anchored to reality."
"A few days ago, the Guildmaster created a painted world in Rin's world using Dark Souls power, and everyone got jealous. Obviously. Who doesn't want a private safehouse?"
She spoke with a hint of longing—then added two key limitations, a trace of regret entering her tone.
"But not every world's rules allow a painted world to exist. The Guildmaster succeeded in Rin's world because the Hollows have eroded space there—spatial rules are unstable, restrictions are looser."
"My world performs pretty well too, since it already has that attached mental dimension. So making an independent space with similar methods is comparatively easy."
"However."
"The space is extremely limited, and nothing with independent consciousness can enter. So in the end, it can only be made into a pure storage tool."
"And most importantly—this only works in my world. The moment you leave, it becomes a useless hunk of metal."
Shinobu nodded in understanding, fingertips tracing the device's smooth surface.
"So that's why Eisen didn't give me something like this…"
"He had his reasons," Sakiko said, and then—without a shred of guilt—exposed the Guildmaster's sly intent.
"First, he hadn't been to your world, so he couldn't build something compatible with its rules."
"Second…" She pursed her lips. "Back then he was desperately trying to lure you into other worlds. If he'd given you this, you probably wouldn't have wanted to go anywhere."
Shinobu smiled softly and didn't comment. After arriving in Sakiko's world and calming down, she'd already guessed everyone's motives more or less.
She carefully put the device away, treating it like fragile treasure, nestled it securely into her small bag, and bowed with impeccable courtesy.
"Thank you, Sakiko."
Sakiko frowned—then scolded her in an affectionate tone.
"Don't call me 'Sakiko miss.' It's too distant. Just call me Sakiko. Or Saki."
Shinobu flowed with it effortlessly. A warm smile bloomed across her face as she adjusted.
"Then… thank you, Saki."
Sakiko's expression brightened immediately, clearly pleased.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling them with broken light.
With the Kaguya Shinomiya piece successfully set on the board—and with the first chain among the four "shackles" (the shackle of hierarchy) finally pried loose—Sakiko felt the boulder on her chest ease, just a little.
She took out her phone, swiping cheerfully as her tone turned bright and lively.
"All right. With Shinomiya-senpai handled, there's nothing urgent left. Shinobu, you have to actually enjoy my world for a few days."
"Use the time while you can—once Shinomiya-senpai gets the research institute set up, you might be so busy you won't even touch the ground."
Shinobu nodded quietly.
But she also caught the tiny tells: Sakiko was forcing a light atmosphere.
Sakiko was lying.
After prying open the first shackle, she should have immediately started on the remaining three. Her original plan was to repair things with CRYCHIC and the other members of Ave Mujica—that was the knot that strangled her deepest.
But on one hand, her pride wouldn't allow her to show her fragile, messy side in front of a guildmate.
On the other… looking at this gentle girl carrying a past heavier than most people could survive, Sakiko wanted Shinobu to set everything down for a few days and breathe.
So she decided—before Shinomiya Kaguya truly put the institute into motion—she'd accompany Shinobu on something like a real break.
"Let me see… do we hit the new amusement park and ride the roller coaster? Or go scream our lungs out at karaoke?"
Sakiko scrolled through trending destinations, excitement in her voice.
"Or—oh, there's a pretty good band performance coming up—"
Then she froze.
Her entire body locked up. Her pupils constricted.
As mentioned before, this was technically class time. Sakiko's real body had been skipping school to tail Shinomiya Kaguya, while her "possibility double" sat in her classroom.
Normally, she fed that double the bare minimum of awareness—just enough to maintain the appearance of an ordinary student listening to class. Like weak AIs blending into society, the double didn't have enough "mind" to produce complex reactions.
But now—
A shock strong enough to punch through the link slammed into Sakiko's consciousness.
She immediately shifted her attention into the double.
The classroom, which should have been quiet, was in an uproar. A cluster of girls had surrounded "Sakiko," faces anxious.
"Sakiko! Look at this!"
One of them held her phone up so close it was almost shoved into Sakiko's face. The bright screen displayed a video that was exploding across social media.
"It's Wakaba! Someone filmed it outside RiNG!"
The footage was clearly a random bystander recording—shaky, low-res, messy.
But the background was unmistakable: Live House RiNG.
The café on the first floor. The practice room upstairs. The basement stage where bands bled their souls into the lights.
In the video, a familiar figure stepped out through RiNG's doors.
Wakaba Mutsumi's doll-like face held a fracture that made the skin crawl.
Her eyes were hollow as she stared forward. Her lips moved, and she spoke with clear diction—but absolutely no emotion.
"I'm going to find Sakiko."
Then the world snapped.
Mutsumi's expression twisted into rage. Her eyes sharpened. Her voice shot up into a harsh, cutting pitch.
"Mutsumi wants to go find Sakiko—BUT WHEN HAS SAKIKO EVER COME LOOKING FOR YOU?! She's never come to find you! Not once!"
The words cleaved straight into Sakiko.
Under the tree outside Shuchiin, Sakiko's real body and the classroom double both went rigid. Pupils trembled. Her heart clenched so hard she couldn't breathe.
She wanted to deny it. Refute it.
But her throat was sealed shut—
Because it was true.
The video continued.
The anger receded like a tide, leaving Mutsumi blank again—flat, distant, as if the outburst had never happened.
She spoke to empty air in a tone like sleepwalking.
"CRYCHIC is gone. This time, I'll do better."
Then rage surged back without warning—sharp, pained, accusing.
"But she didn't come see you even once! Not even once!"
Then the emptiness returned.
"Sakiko only has Mujica now."
And again the furious protector voice:
"Even if you go see her, she won't regret anything! The only one who gets hurt is you!"
Finally, everything was shoved down again—forced under the surface. Mutsumi's face went still, and her voice turned small, weak, pleading.
"Please… let me see Sakiko…"
And then—
As if her bones had been yanked out, Mutsumi's knees buckled.
She dropped to the ground in front of RiNG with a heavy thud, kneeling on the pavement.
The background noise exploded—voices layering over each other.
"Isn't that… the Ave Mujica girl?"
"Holy crap, what is this—performance art?"
"Wait, is Ave Mujica coming back? Is this promotion?"
"It looks so real—film it!"
Then a familiar figure burst into frame.
Nagasaki Soyo threw herself forward like a mother bird shielding a chick, planting her slender body between Mutsumi and the cameras. Arms spread wide, she shouted at the crowd—
"Stop filming! Don't film her!!"
The video cut off.
The screen went dark, reflecting Sakiko's face—twisted with shock.
Outside Shuchiin, under the tree, Sakiko stood frozen. A bitter cold surged from her feet into every bone.
The traffic noise, the street's bustle, pedestrians glancing over—everything felt distant, muffled behind frosted glass.
She stared at the phone as if it had swallowed her world.
She understood.
That was Mutsumi—
And that was Mortis.
They were fighting for control of the body.
Mutsumi wanted to hold onto the last thread between herself and Sakiko, no matter what it cost.
Mortis was trying to protect "little Mutsumi," furious, desperate, and absolutely convinced:
Sakiko would only hurt her again.
She's right, a part of Sakiko thought, and it was like being stabbed.
She remembered the day Mortis first appeared—before that.
The show where Mutsumi didn't perform.
The fight at the station.
Mutsumi following behind her in silence.
And Sakiko—wounded, frantic, cornered like an animal—had spun around and screamed at the girl who was so obviously trying to apologize and reach her.
"Why didn't you take my side?! I… I only have Mujica!"
After that, Mutsumi was replaced completely.
Sakiko felt something black and corrosive bloom in her chest.
Self-disgust.
She realized she hadn't changed at all.
Whether it was creating CRYCHIC or building Ave Mujica, she always put herself first—her dreams, her shame, her pride.
When she formed CRYCHIC, it was to satisfy her own musical ideal.
When she destroyed it, it was to protect her collapsing dignity—and she left ruins behind.
When she formed Ave Mujica, she strapped everyone to her war chariot again, using them as coins to pay for vengeance and survival.
She spun like a top, "moving forward" while never leaving the orbit of herself.
She accepted other people's kindness, pushed away their hands, hurt the ones closest to her—and refused to look at the pain she caused.
A muffled sound tore out of her throat.
Sakiko bit down hard enough her lip went white, close to bleeding.
Those molten-gold eyes burned—not at Mortis.
Not at Mutsumi.
At herself.
At Toyokawa Sakiko—selfish, cold, and cowardly.
All the "we'll just play a few days with Shinobu" excuses shattered.
No more running.
No more leaving that broken girl behind her.
Sakiko forced her face into a stiff, distorted smile and turned to Shinobu, whose eyes were full of quiet worry.
"Sorry, Shinobu…" Her voice was hoarse. "There's something I have to do."
Shinobu had been beside her the whole time, watching the struggle plainly written across Sakiko's body.
She didn't interrogate her. Didn't judge.
She stepped closer and placed a warm, steady hand over Sakiko's trembling one.
"Then I'll go too."
Her voice was gentle—unshakably firm.
"We're guildmates, aren't we?"
For a moment, the fog around Sakiko split and light got through.
She didn't speak—only nodded hard.
Then she spun, strode to the curb, and flagged down an empty taxi the instant it appeared.
She yanked open the door, climbed in, and gave the destination clearly:
"Wakaba residence."
The engine growled. The car slid into traffic.
And at the exact moment Sakiko's real body decided—
In the classroom, the possibility double's eyes snapped sharp.
She stood, pushed through the girls crowding her desk, and said in a low voice that brooked no refusal:
"Sorry. Move."
Then she walked straight out, heading for the next classroom.
Because the video had captured, in a flash, two figures outside RiNG—
Takamatsu Tomori and Chihaya Anon.
They had been there.
They would know more.
In the taxi's back seat, Sakiko didn't waste a second. She pulled out her phone, scrolled through her contacts, and stopped on a name that used to be painfully familiar—one she had blocked.
Nagasaki Soyo.
She inhaled once, released her finger, and unblocked the number.
Then she hit call.
—
At the Wakaba residence, Nagasaki Soyo sat on the edge of a wide, soft bed, leaning forward as she soothed the girl clutching a guitar.
It was Mutsumi's body.
But the one speaking through it was Mortis.
"Where's Mutsumi?" Soyo asked softly, careful, probing.
Mortis pouted, her voice childlike.
"I threw a bunch of stuff she hates at her and locked her up."
Then, sulky and stubborn:
"She keeps saying she wants to see Sakiko. But if she goes, Sakiko will hurt her again."
Soyo fell silent.
She looked at the familiar-not-familiar face, at the twisted "protection" in Mortis's eyes, and her heart felt like it was being torn in two.
Finally, she drew a breath and made a decision.
She stared straight into Mortis's eyes.
"You know where Sakiko lives right now. Tell me."
Mortis blinked, caught off guard.
Soyo leaned forward, voice low but absolute.
"I've learned enough from you—about Mutsumi, about Sakiko, about everything that happened."
"I can't pretend I don't know anymore. I have to do something."
Mortis stared at her.
A few seconds of dead silence.
Then—whether because Soyo's concern reached her, or because she decided it didn't matter anymore—Mortis gave an address.
It was the place where Sakiko's father currently lived.
Soyo saved it, stood, gave Mortis one last long look, and left the room.
Outside the Wakaba house, sunlight made her squint.
She took out her phone, ready to enter the address into navigation—
And then the phone vibrated violently in her palm.
A ringtone she hadn't heard in forever.
When she saw the caller ID, her breathing stopped.
Saki.
Soyo froze, finger hovering over the screen, mind blank for a beat.
Then she inhaled shakily, slid to accept, and lifted the phone to her ear.
"…Saki?"
Her voice was dry—uncertain, and quietly, painfully hopeful.
"Soyo, I saw the video."
Sakiko's words came out fast, urgency barely contained.
"What's happening to Mutsumi?"
Soyo's hand tightened around the phone.
That tone—full of responsibility, that familiar leadership—hit her like a hallucination.
For an instant, she could almost see it again:
The Sakiko who stood center stage like a sun.
The one who held them all together.
—
In the school hallway, Sakiko's double found her targets.
Outside the neighboring classroom, she spotted Tomori and Anon just as they were about to leave.
Anon looked grim, worry written across her face.
Tomori walked beside her, quiet as always, eyes drifting with that familiar timid distance.
Even with dread for Mutsumi hammering her chest, Sakiko forced the chaos down.
A smile rose on her face.
Not a polite mask.
A smile with confidence—real confidence—like something that had been missing for far too long.
"Tomori."
Her voice was warm and clear.
"I need to ask you something."
"It's about… Mutsumi."
Tomori froze.
She looked up into Sakiko's eyes.
And in that moment, the warmth buried deep in Tomori's memories stirred—
As if the fog and walls had fallen away, and the Sakiko in front of her had become the Sakiko from the beginning again.
Bright. Certain.
A girl who could point forward and make the road feel possible.
—
The taxi raced through the city's veins as scenery blurred past the windows. In the back seat, Sakiko gripped her phone until her knuckles turned pale.
After some time, she ended the call.
At nearly the same moment, the school double said goodbye to Tomori and Anon.
With both streams of information merging, the full picture formed in Sakiko's mind.
After Ave Mujica stopped activities, Mutsumi never returned to school.
Sakiko had naïvely believed that if Mutsumi stayed away from Mujica—away from her—then Mutsumi would return to normal.
Maybe even get better.
It was a comforting fantasy Sakiko had used to soothe herself after failing, again and again.
Reality shattered it.
Mutsumi hadn't recovered.
She had sunk deeper.
She entered a deep sleep and handed full control to Mortis.
And Mortis didn't care about the real world at all. She refused to attend school. Her only obsession was waking Mutsumi.
When Soyo noticed Mutsumi's long-term absence, she went to the Wakaba house out of concern—and discovered the truth.
And yesterday, after hearing Kaname Rāna's guitar—so sharp it could pierce bone—Mutsumi briefly woke.
But that moment of clarity only made the split worse.
Mutsumi and Mortis fought viciously over one question:
Whether Mutsumi should go see Sakiko.
In the end, Mortis won.
And she sealed the part of Mutsumi that desperately wanted Sakiko away in the deepest dark.
"It's my fault…"
Sakiko closed her eyes. Her fingernails carved into her palm.
Self-hatred tried to swallow her whole.
But she dragged in a breath and crushed it down.
She couldn't collapse.
She still had to save Mutsumi.
—
Ten-odd minutes later, the taxi stopped at the Wakaba estate gate.
Sakiko paid, pushed the door open, and stepped out.
And there, at the entrance, Nagasaki Soyo stood waiting.
She had clearly been there for a while—hands clasped behind her back, eyes tangled with anxiety, hope, and a deep, gnawing fear.
Sunlight flickered over her in leaf-shadow patterns, making her look thin, fragile.
When she saw Sakiko step out of the car, Soyo's body stiffened. Her eyes flooded with complicated emotion.
Sakiko paused for a heartbeat.
Then she walked straight toward Soyo—no hesitation.
The hard lines of her face softened like ice melting. A warm, honest smile broke through, bright as sunlight punching through storm clouds.
Soyo's mind went blank.
In that instant, Sakiko stepped in, opened her arms, and hugged her—tight and real.
"I'm sorry, Soyo."
Sakiko's voice reached her ear, carrying a raw sincerity and an apology that didn't try to hide.
"Before… because of my own issues, I said a lot of unforgivable things."
Soyo's body locked for a second—then she bit her lip hard enough to hurt, trying to crush the burning ache rising into her nose. Her lashes trembled violently as she fought tears that wanted to spill.
After several seconds, she finally whispered, voice thick with a nasal tremor:
"…Saki. Are you really back?"
Sakiko loosened the hug, but her hands stayed firm on Soyo's shoulders.
She looked straight into Soyo's reddened eyes. Her own gaze was bright and unwavering—hot with the kind of force only a true "sun" could carry.
"Yes."
"I'm back."
But the warmth lasted only a breath.
Sakiko's tenderness was replaced by focus. Severity.
She stepped back and looked toward the Wakaba residence.
"Everything that happened before—I will apologize. I'll explain it all, properly."
Her words accelerated. Her expression turned dead serious.
"But right now, Mutsumi is in danger."
"We don't have time."
Soyo inhaled sharply, forced her emotions down, wiped the corner of her eye, and nodded hard.
She knew Sakiko was right.
But when she thought about what was inside that house, resignation crept back into her face.
"But Saki… Mutsumi's condition is really bad."
"She won't see you."
"No—more accurately. Mutsumi wants to see you. Desperately. I can feel it."
"But the one controlling the body—Mortis—is stopping you from meeting."
"She sealed Mutsumi away. She believes… you'll hurt Mutsumi again."
Sakiko's eyes didn't shake. If anything, a sharper light flashed through them.
"Don't worry."
"I have a way."
She reached into her pocket and took out her phone.
In truth, the phone had already been vibrating since she'd stepped out of the taxi. After hearing the details—the long isolation, the split personalities, the abnormality—Sakiko had formed a terrifying suspicion:
Mutsumi's inner world was twisted enough to form a Palace.
And the vibration was confirmation.
Sakiko drew a breath and lit the screen. She opened the Otherworld Navigation App.
A new notification had appeared.
Even though she'd prepared herself, the moment her eyes landed on the text, her pupils still constricted—and her breath stopped for an instant.
Because the message wasn't one Palace.
It was two.
[Two new Palaces detected]
[Palace Owner: Wakaba Mutsumi][Palace Owner: Mori Minami]
The words hit Sakiko like a hammer.
She had expected Mutsumi.
But the second name—
Mori Minami.
Mutsumi's mother.
The Wakaba household's elegant hostess, always perfectly made up, always graceful, always able to glide through social spaces without a single flaw.
Sakiko knew exactly what a Palace meant.
It meant desire had rotted the heart so deeply it had warped into an entire world.
And someone like that was rarely "normal" in daily life.
Her own father's Palace had manifested as total collapse. Mutsumi's outward "wrongness" was dissociation and fracture.
But Mori Minami… had always looked perfect.
Sakiko had seen her countless times at Wakaba gatherings—holding champagne, smiling gently, speaking impeccably, keeping the estate pristine.
Now the question stabbed through her:
Had that composure been a lie all along?
A cold dread climbed her spine.
If someone had a Palace, and still managed to appear flawlessly "normal"…
That wasn't stability.
That was something far worse.
But now wasn't the time to chase Minami's abyss.
Sakiko squeezed her eyes shut, forced the fear down.
Minami was another battlefield.
Mutsumi was now.
Every second of delay could push her deeper into darkness.
Sakiko had to see the interior of Mutsumi's heart with her own eyes—see what shadow ruled there.
She lifted her head. Her eyes turned sharp as a blade.
In a flash, she reached back and grabbed Shinobu by the wrist.
The grip made Shinobu blink—but she immediately saw the severity in Sakiko's profile. She didn't resist.
Her calm gaze offered silent support.
But that sudden, intimate motion stabbed straight into Soyo's nerves.
"Saki…?"
Soyo's voice trembled.
Her brow knotted. The red in her eyes flashed with doubt and anxiety.
Why was Sakiko holding that unfamiliar girl?
What relationship did they have—one Soyo didn't know about?
Sakiko turned and met Soyo's eyes, speaking rapidly.
"Sorry, Soyo! There's no time to explain!"
She didn't let Soyo interrupt.
"Listen—Shinobu and I are going to vanish right in front of you."
"Don't panic."
"I will explain everything after. Trust me!"
Before Soyo could form a second word—
Sakiko's finger pressed the button on the Navigation App marked [Wakaba Mutsumi].
"Wai—!"
Soyo's cry was cut off mid-syllable.
A low-frequency vibration erupted from nowhere.
It wasn't just sound—it shook space itself, worming into bone and soul.
Air thickened like syrup. The world twisted.
Sunlight, leaf-shadow, the Wakaba gate, Soyo's shocked and wounded face—everything dissolved, stripped apart as if reality were being peeled into ribbons.
Light stretched into unrecognizable bands.
Sound snapped into absolute silence.
The world collapsed in front of Sakiko's eyes.
One breath later, everything real was gone.
Only blackness and stillness remained.
When Sakiko felt solid ground again, she found herself standing alone in an endless black void.
Looking down, there was only a bottomless darkness that swallowed all light. No reference point. No up, down, left, or right.
And ahead—
In the center of that terrible dark—
A city loomed, vast beyond imagination.
It wasn't brick and stone.
It was a colossal mechanical composite: cold silver-gray metal interwoven with deep wooden structures. Massive gears, springs, music cylinders, and reeds were embedded across its surface—precision and childhood whim twisted into a single, eerie industrial beauty.
Spires stabbed upward like spears. Their tips resembled giant tuning forks frozen in place.
Huge winding mechanisms wrapped the towers, slowly turning with a steady click… clack… click… clack…
This was Wakaba Mutsumi's inner world made physical—
A mechanical city running forever in an endless loop.
Sakiko forced herself to breathe, to push down awe and panic, and raised her phone.
The Navigation App displayed the Palace's basic info:
[Palace Owner: Wakaba Mutsumi][Palace Name: The Music Box of Eternal Performance][Rule: All actions—speech and movement—must align with the beat. Failure triggers forced damage.]
Sakiko's brow tightened.
"Everything has to match the beat…"
Like her father's Palace staircase had been a mirror of his collapse, this city—and its rhythmic law—had to reflect Mutsumi's wounds.
But why rhythm?
Why tempo?
Sakiko searched every memory she had of Mutsumi.
Mutsumi had always been quiet, always behind her. Sakiko had never seen anything "wrong."
So why would Mutsumi's distortion become a world where the beat ruled life and death?
The deeper Sakiko thought, the heavier the self-loathing became.
She had believed she understood Mutsumi.
But this Palace stood like a mirror in front of her, showing the arrogance of that belief.
She had treated Mutsumi's silence as background noise—because Sakiko's world had always centered on Sakiko.
She hadn't stopped to listen.
Hadn't read the SOS beneath the quiet.
Just as that self-interrogation threatened to crush her—
A trembling voice rose behind her, full of fear and confusion.
"Saki…? Where are we…? What is this…?"
Sakiko's body went rigid.
She whipped around.
Behind her—besides Shinobu, whose expression had turned complicated—
Stood a third figure, pale as paper, trembling with terror.
Nagasaki Soyo.
"Soyo?!" Sakiko's eyes widened. "Why are you here?!"
Shinobu let out a small, helpless sigh.
As a Demon Slayer Pillar, her senses were razor-sharp. The instant they arrived in the void, she had noticed Soyo had come along.
But she didn't know what Soyo's presence meant in this system.
And Sakiko—upon entering—had immediately become consumed by the phone's information, her expression so grim Shinobu couldn't find a moment to interrupt.
The transition had also been instantaneous—no time to warn.
Now, seeing Sakiko's shock, Shinobu understood: this was not a harmless accident.
And beside them, Soyo stared at the endless void and the oppressive mechanical fortress, eyes full of horror.
Sakiko's mind raced.
Then she clenched her jaw.
This problem would have to be dealt with—fast.
Because the Palace had already opened its mouth.
And it was waiting to swallow them whole.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 155)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter200)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter110)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter230)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 200
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 180
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass Volume2/5
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 230
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 220
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 154
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player Volume4/30
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 120
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 135
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 110
I Can Copy Unique Skills 100
Summoning an Evil God, but the 70
Supernatural Multiverse 100
My Harem Is Indescribable 90
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 95
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 68
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 105
Still playing traditional Honk 69
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 80
What Should I Do After Switchi - Volume2/3
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 70
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 55
Transmigrated as Sukuna 75
Checking In in Demon Slayer 80
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 85
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 70
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 65
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 70
What Do You Mean by Using a Lab Mod to Be the Hero? 70
Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 65
Why did they assign me to Uma 65
MYGO Beauties 65
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 55
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 65
Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 45
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 45
The Uma Musume Who Became 40
I'm Definitely Not the King of 45
After Maxing Out Every Class 45
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