The house was a mess—glass shattered, screens torn, the air thick with the lingering stench of spiritual decay.
The servants were still groaning in pain, their eyes bloodshot from the psychic scream the ghost baby had released before its final demise. But thanks to the protective talismans, the Yukinoshita sisters and their father, waiting just outside the door, remained unharmed.
Even so, the look on their faces told a story—shock, confusion, and above all, worry.
Yukinoshita Haruno and her father exchanged a glance. Neither spoke, but their eyes carried the same silent question: Is it over?
Yukinoshita Yukino stood motionless, her hands clenched at her sides, her expression unreadable. But the worry in her eyes gave her away. No matter what her relationship with her mother was, the woman inside that room was still her family.
From within, Shiro Sakamaki's voice rang out, calm and clear.
"Heh. Just a low-tier ghost baby—nothing to lose sleep over."
He stood over the ashes left behind by the exorcised spirit, the remnants of his golden light whip still faintly glowing in the air. Though the ghost baby's origins were pitiful, there was no room for mercy when dealing with malicious spirits. Compassion in such cases could only lead to disaster.
Shiro walked to the center of the room and began chanting a purification mantra. A soft white glow radiated from him, cleansing the room of the spiritual filth left behind.
He then carefully drew two talismans—one for calming the soul and one for mental focus—and placed them gently on Mrs. Yukinoshita's forehead. Her body was intact, but her spirit had taken serious damage. The ghost baby had been feeding on her spiritual energy for who knows how long.
She would survive—but she would need time.
After tucking a blanket over her, Shiro stepped toward the door and opened it.
Haruno immediately rushed forward. "How is my mother?" she asked, her voice sharp but edged with concern.
Shiro tilted his head toward the room. "She's stable. Weak, but she'll recover—eventually. Just don't wipe off those talismans. They'll fade on their own."
Yukino and their father moved silently past him, entering the room and taking in the destruction. Claw marks gouged deep into the walls, shattered glass lay everywhere. It was easy to imagine what could've happened if Shiro hadn't stepped in.
When they saw Mrs. Yukinoshita breathing steadily, her complexion slowly returning to normal, they all let out a quiet breath of relief.
This wasn't just about saving one life. If the family matriarch had died, the Yukinoshita household would have become a battleground overnight.
Just as Shiro reached the mansion gates, a familiar voice called out from behind.
"Wait—Shiro-kun!"
He turned to find Haruno jogging toward him. Her expression was unusually serious.
"Hmm? Senior, shouldn't you be inside, taking care of your mother?"
She stopped in front of him, panting slightly. "I just wanted to say thank you. If you hadn't stepped in tonight… things could've ended very differently."
He raised an eyebrow. "You don't need to thank me. I was paid to be here, and this wasn't even that hard, honestly."
Haruno shook her head. Then, without a word, she handed him a check.
He looked down. 100 million yen.
"This is from me," she said. "A personal thank-you. The agreed-upon reward will still be delivered tomorrow."
Shiro tucked the check into his coat with a small smile. "Alright then. Thanks for the tip. If anything else comes up—" he pulled a small card from his pocket and handed it to her, "—you know how to reach me. That's my Line ID."
Haruno took the card silently. Just before he turned to leave again, Shiro paused and added one last thing:
"Oh, right—this ghost baby wasn't natural. Someone made it. You might want to think about whether anyone's been holding a grudge against your family lately."
He gave her a final nod and walked off into the night, disappearing into the shadows.
Back inside, the family huddled close around Mrs. Yukinoshita. The room was quiet now, but the scars left behind—on the walls and in their hearts—would take longer to heal.
And far away, in an old house in Kamakura, a man in the shadows coughed up blood, his face twisted in rage.
"Who… did this?"
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