The next day.
When Arihisa Riku woke up in the temporary medical room of the Gojo estate, he felt as though he had lived through a lifetime.
Not far from his hospital bed, a tea-haired woman wearing a white lab coat turned her head.
“Awake? Do you still remember what happened before you passed out?”
The painter, Arihisa Riku, experienced a momentary daze as he recalled that surreal sequence of events.
“That boy who sa—saved me…”
“Oh, you mean Ieiri?” As she spoke, the tea-haired woman abruptly broke into a light smile.
“That name pairing is actually a bit strange, considering he and I share the same surname.”
She was Ieiri Shoko, the sole medic at Jujutsu High.
Ieiri…
Arihisa Riku silently repeated that surname.
Having been treated with Reverse Cursed Technique not long ago, his body and mind remained in a sluggish state.
Scene after scene played out within his mind, simultaneously feeling like reality and illusion, mottled and hazy.
Arihisa Riku was a painter, and his greatest specialty was the grotesque aesthetic of ukiyo-e.
And that boy…
There could be no one more suited.
Bizarre and sexy, gorgeous and dangerous, agonizing and joyful these contradictory terms
Existed in him in a manner that was contradictory, harmonious, and yet entirely perfect.
He was a glimmer of inspiration he had only managed to vaguely glimpse in his dreams, now transformed into reality.
Just like the mysterious, hazy star hanging high above that he looked up to. He was a muse…
He thought infatuatedly.
Seeing the flush that suddenly bloomed across the other’s face, Ieiri Shoko: “…”
Is he a freak?
Judging by his expression, he didn’t look like a normal person, though she didn’t care to investigate the reason either.
She was about to say something when a knock on the door interrupted her.
“Knock, knock—”
Immediately afterward, a brisk voice rang out through the door panel: “Shoko-senpai, it’s me, Yuuki.”
Ieiri Shoko: “Oh, come in.”
The blonde youth pushed the door open and entered. “Shoko-senpai, I brought a green grape cake. The flavor is fresh, lightly sweet, and super delicious.”
“Eh? Thank you.”
Ieiri Shoko’s eyes curved into crescents as she accepted it. “Right, you went out to eat with Inumaki today, and you’re back this early?”
While the two were making casual small talk, the comments that had vanished for an entire night reappeared without warning:
[Landing right on schedule!]
[Here they come, here they come]
[Two Ieiris, a group photo for commemoration. By the way, Little Snow even brought cake for Shoko, so cute]
[Shoko’s screen time, moar moar!]
[Isn’t this Nobara? She grew up this fast?]
[…No, wait, are the people ahead clouds? Nobara and Shoko are completely different people, right?! Anyone who has watched even a few episodes wouldn’t say something like that]
[Shoko stans are literally going to cry]
Ieiri Shoko glanced up and caught sight of that ink-colored snake tail flashing briefly beneath the youth’s collar.
She didn’t particularly dislike snakes and couldn’t help lingering with her gaze a little longer—after all, humans were visual creatures.
This combination…
Hm, quite pleasing to the eye as well.
The livestream’s perspective followed suit, though it seemed the focus of their discussion had shifted, becoming somewhat unspeakable and a bit… strange.
[Family members, this school uniform is way too powerful; the black sleeveless top is seriously divine]
[Mhn…]
[Huh?]
[What is it? I don’t get it!]
*[Muzan’s body temperature should be pretty low; from the side you can see it’s completely *]
This lengthy comment was posted, only to be filtered out within mere seconds.
Replaced in its stead was a notification: [System Warning: This comment has been filtered!]
Even so, quite a few people still managed to catch it.
[@big_sister, true savage words. Is this the power of 18+?! (Currently transformed into a crooked-mouthed Dragon King)]
[Hehe]
[So small and pink, ahegao]
[Huh? What on earth is it?! You folks in front, stop talking in riddles?!]
Ieiri Yuuki had intended to make up for the fright Senior Inumaki suffered when Muzan went on a rampage, planning to take him through a full tour of eating, drinking, and entertainment.
“Senior received an emergency mission and only had enough time to finish eating before leaving.”
“That’s quite a pity.”
Sorcerers rarely enjoyed freedom.
Ieiri Shoko sighed inwardly.
“Indeed.”
As he spoke, Ieiri Yuuki walked over to the hospital bed and greeted the black-haired young man.
“Mr. Arihisa, are you feeling better?”
“Bett—much better…”
He sounded somewhat tense.
Upon hearing the voice outside the door just moments ago, Arihisa Riku had realized his muse had arrived, leaving his hands and feet at a complete loss for where to put themselves.
“That’s good.”
The youth nodded, pulling a chair over to sit down beside his hospital bed.
Seeing this, Ieiri Shoko took the green grape cake and headed into another room.
Only the two of them remained in the room.
Arihisa Riku’s Adam’s apple bobbed; it felt as though even the flow of air had slowed down significantly.
Causing him not to dare look directly, not to dare desecrate, not to dare speak.
“Mr. Arihisa,” the youth smiled softly, “I am Ieiri Yuuki, a student at Jujutsu High, and I’m here today to explain the origin of the incident.”
“…Mhn.”
Yuuki.
A name like fresh snow. He thought.
Ieiri Yuuki first popularized some common knowledge about the jujutsu world before saying, “Do you remember that Cursed Speech, Mr. Arihisa? It belonged to the category of imaginary Curses.”
A terrifying urban legend, once passed from mouth to mouth enough times, would eventually materialize into a Curse.
For instance, Kuchisake-onna, Sadako.
“Mhn.”
“Its intelligence wasn’t low. To enhance its strength, it treated the apartment as its base camp and targeted all of you.”
“What made Mr. Arihisa rather special was that while you were possessed by it, your paintings also became tainted with its cursed energy, accidentally turning into a medium—
People who viewed your paintings would be influenced, producing emotional fluctuations far beyond normal levels, and those emotions would all serve as nourishment for the Cursed Speech.”
The reason that Cursed Speech hadn’t immediately killed Arihisa Riku was simply because it had tasted the sweetness of achieving a “successful hunt” without ever stepping out the door.
Arihisa Riku started slightly.
To him, this was an entirely different world.
Ieiri Yuuki: “Though the Curse was exorcised, the cursed energy integrated into your body has already surpassed that of an ordinary person. Consequently, there is a certain probability that your paintings will still carry the power of a ‘curse’.”
Ever since Ieiri Yuuki submitted his mission report, Yaga Masamichi had sent him a message.
His text message explained the potential situations under such a premise and instructed Ieiri Yuuki to conduct a preliminary check in advance to prevent any secondary tragedies.
[I see]
[I remember the official guidebook mentioned the principal stayed at Jujutsu High after graduation, spanning over thirty years now. The number of Curses he’s witnessed exceeds the salt eaten by the students]
[Can the principal compile a book out of this?]
[Curse Encyclopedia, is it?]
[Hahahaha]
Ieiri Yuuki glanced sideways at the scrolling comments, lost in thought.
Though the comments spoke in a joking tone, he felt there was a certain degree of feasibility to it.
The Curses across Japan were all sorts of strange and bizarre, but the fact that the principal could summarize traits from them indicated there were multiple examples supporting this theory.
If these theories were compiled into volumes, it would undoubtedly be a good thing for Jujutsu High students.
On the other side.
Listening to the youth’s words, Arihisa Riku unconsciously clenched his palms. “Then… does that mean I will never…” be able to pick up a paintbrush again?
Arihisa Riku was well aware that the government would never allow matters capable of endangering society to run unchecked.
The blonde youth shook his head and said, “The situation hasn’t reached that point just yet; we only need to test it.”
Test it…
Does that mean having him paint another piece?
“Yes. If Mr. Arihisa’s paintings contain no ‘curse,’ or if you can control that power, then it will be fine.”
Arihisa Riku nodded, licking his stinging lower lip, his throat dry.
He blurted out: “For the test painting, can I… use you as my model?”
“…”
Seeing the other startle, Arihisa Riku felt as though his heart was about to stop beating: “I have offended you, I’m sorry, I…”
“Alright.”
The painter abruptly raised his head.
He saw the youth’s smiling face as the other said, “I have seen Mr. Arihisa’s work; it’s very beautiful.”
“…” Arihisa Riku nodded mutely.
“However, I have a small request ” He smiled. “Please, Mr. Arihisa, let Muzan join me and enter the painting together?”
The ink snake, whose presence had been close to zero ever since they stepped through the door, opened its eyes slightly before closing them once more.
Just a human’s tactic to appease him.
…
[Tch]
[Blessed Bro’s reaction isn’t very big]
[He’s turned into Indifferent Bro]
[You don’t cherish what you’ve already gotten? After listening to Little Snow’s “confession” in the cave, Blessed Bro has directly entered a state of “spoiled arrogance”]
[Though with that said, entering the painting together I’m so looking forward to it…]
[Previously we got a close-up of this painter’s work, and it was basically always a pretty youth paired with a non-human monster, an intertwining of carnal desire and the grotesque]
[Even though at most only a shoulder is exposed, the overall atmosphere is just so erotic]
[Non-human vibes maximized]
[Production crew, promise me, this painting must get a major close-up, alright?!]
[Will they release merch?! I’m definitely buying]
Returning to the room’s perspective.
Arihisa Riku naturally agreed on the spot.
It was his first time feeling so tongue-tied; in front of his muse, he couldn’t even manage to string together a complete sentence: “Student Ieiri, I…”
Overly nervous, he even felt a wave of nausea churning in his stomach.
There was gratitude toward his savior, a sense of closeness to the youth, and… “love” for his muse.
No artist could possibly fail to love their muse.
His brain short-circuited:
“I—I love you!”
…
On the youth’s neck, the resting ink snake snapped its eyes wide open, those crimson-ruby snake pupils falling chillingly upon the human.
The comments paused for a single second before erupting:
[Haha, I’m so satisfied!!]
[Indifferent Bro, why aren’t you acting indifferent anymore?]