He moved through the corridor, up the stairs laid bare under the dim remnants of sunset, one step at a time.
The moment Nanami Kira entered the building, something felt wrong. The architecture didn't sit right—twisted pipes jutted from the walls like coiled intestines, the ceiling hung too low, pressing down with the illusion that it might collapse at any moment. Shadows flickered across the walls, but when he looked again, the surfaces were blank white.
"An incomplete Innate Domain." Kira murmured, his expression unchanged. "Already at the level of a Special Grade Cursed Spirit..."
I hate overtime.
A shadow lunged from ahead. Half the corridor wall shattered into fragments. Kira threw his arm up on reflex, and the entire hallway erupted, a massive blast of pressure sweeping outward.
Click.
A faint pink glow flickered across his fingertips as he squeezed.
He opened his hand and let the body drop. The Cursed Spirit had eight faces, each riddled with tiny pores, and from every pore stared a sesame-seed-sized eye, blinking. It crumbled into ash, grain by grain.
Kira pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his hands, and walked on without looking back.
The shadows ahead deepened. Countless shapes poked their heads out, tentacles reaching for him without a shred of hesitation.
His smile grew calmer.
"I hate overtime..."
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The explosions were silent, but the sounds of Cursed Spirits hitting the floor were not. One after another—flesh splattering, then dissolving into ash. Grade 3, Grade 2, even Semi-Grade 1. Everything Killer Queen touched cracked apart, crumbling piece by piece. A flick of Kira's hand, and they were nothing but drifting ash.
Down the corridors, up the stairwells—Kira blasted his way through. The Cursed Spirits scattered, screaming, shrieking, stumbling over each other to flee. They cowered in dark corners, watching with terrified eyes as the man walked toward them, one unhurried step at a time.
"I hate overtime."
Only the lowest-grade spirits—the ones too mindless to know fear, the newborns still wet behind the ears—hurled themselves at him. They vanished in bursts of light, reduced to ash.
Kira walked slowly. He knew nothing here could stop him.
He reached the second floor of the dormitory building. According to intel, the Cursed Womb and five survivors were here.
The moment he stepped inside, the ominous aura thickened, pressing in from every direction.
Red. Red everywhere. The walls, the window frames, the ceiling, the tangled pipes—all soaked in a deep, oppressive crimson. Like stepping into a world painted in blood.
Kira glanced behind him. As expected, the way back had vanished.
He was fully inside this Cursed Spirit's domain now.
He noticed bloodstains on the floor, trailing toward a shadowed corner.
The stench of death hit him.
A hollowed-out corpse. No—not just one. A severed head lay on the ground, eyes frozen wide. Three detached hands scattered nearby. Counting the two arms still on the intact body, that made at least three victims.
Kira's gaze drifted down to the only body that was still mostly whole. The man's eyes had rolled white, his body slumped against the wall. The name tag on his chest read: Tadashi Okazaki.
Ah. Dead then.
Kira scratched his head, mildly annoyed.
He didn't feel guilt. He didn't feel regret. This was just a job.
He'd read the man's file before coming. Two counts of unlicensed driving. Ran over and killed a little girl.
Whether someone was a saint or a villain made no difference to Kira.
So saving him or not saving him—equally irrelevant. Kira knew he wasn't exactly a good person himself, so he'd never entertained the fantasy that someone would come to rescue him at the end.
Oh well. He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo of the body.
That should be enough to report back to the woman... Still, having my plans disrupted is annoying.
Also, it was nine o'clock. He'd been working overtime for a full hour.
"Do you enjoy overtime too?"
Kira turned. A face appeared right in front of him—eyes perched on top of its skull, mouth split wide in a grin, revealing rows of perfectly aligned, bone-white teeth.
"Hee hee."
The Cursed Spirit tilted its head and laughed, those icy teeth clacking open and shut. It clutched its own cheeks, swaying happily.
A terrifying wave of Cursed Energy rippled outward. The air turned viscous. The crushing pressure of a Special Grade bore down on Kira's body. Cold sweat beaded, one drop, then another, sliding down his face.
High-level Cursed Energy pressure could paralyze a lower-ranked sorcerer entirely.
His body went rigid, as if he couldn't move.
"Hee hee hee hee."
The Cursed Womb laughed even harder, the two eyes atop its forehead rolling with undisguised contempt—mocking Kira's helplessness, his weakness. As if sneering at this unremarkable office worker who'd dared trespass into its domain.
It circled around him, dancing, taunting him without a care in the world.
It was showing off how powerful it was.
"Hee hee hee."
Then a skull-adorned hand landed on its shoulder.
The creature flinched and turned, confused.
A large pink cat tilted its head, staring back.
I was so scared I went limp. Just kidding.