The surroundings were a vast expanse of pale white light.
There were no shadows, no corners—so much so that even the concept of “darkness” felt as if it had been completely erased.
Sato stood still for a few seconds before slowly sitting down.
His shoulders gradually slumped, palms pressing against the ground, fingertips trembling slightly.
—Finally, it was quiet.
No sound, no gaze, no oppressive pressure pressing against his back.
He lowered his head and let out a long breath.
It dragged on, as if slowly forcing out everything that had been building up inside his chest.
It had been so long—he could no longer remember the last time he had not felt “watched.”
This kind of silence even made him feel uneasy… yet strangely precious.
…Too quiet. So quiet that it felt wrong.
He didn’t know how long had passed.
His fingers absentmindedly rubbed against the ground.
The rough texture slowly pulled him back to awareness.
He looked up.
Ruined buildings surrounded him.
Collapsed walls, exposed steel beams—like corpses eaten away by time.
No wind.
No sound.
Not even dust moved.
The entire space felt frozen.
His heartbeat suddenly became clear.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Each beat heavier than the last, like it was striking directly against his eardrums.
He swallowed.
“…Is anyone there?”
The words died in his throat.
He suddenly grabbed his own neck, knuckles turning white, but his throat felt blocked by something.
His mouth opened and trembled—but no sound emerged.
A cold sensation slowly crawled up from the base of his spine.
At that moment, it returned.
Not in front of him or around him—only behind him.
Very close.
So close it felt like someone was standing right behind him, leaning down, staring at the back of his neck.
His shoulders jerked violently as he turned around.
—Nothing.
But the gaze did not disappear.
It was still there.
He kept turning, again and again.
Front, back, front, back—faster and faster.
His breathing became chaotic.
But no matter how many times he turned, whatever was watching him always remained in a place he could not see.
He stood up.
At first his steps were steady, but soon they quickened.
He didn’t know how long he walked.
Hours? Days? Time lost all meaning.
The only certainty was that the feeling of being watched never stopped.
It didn’t come closer. It didn’t leave either.
It simply existed—steadily.
Until his legs began to weaken.
When his knees finally buckled, he stopped.
His breathing was broken and uneven.
He slowly raised his head.
Everything around him—the same ruins.
Same positions, same angles, same cracks.
He had returned to the starting point.
His mouth opened wide.
“Aaaah—!”
No sound came out. Nothing responded.
Blackness began to appear across the walls, the ground, the cracks in the ruins.
Like moss, spreading.
A dense mass writhed like something alive.
Then all of it opened.
Tiny crimson eyes.
One after another.
Wet, countless, staring directly at him.
“Is it fun, Sato?”
A voice came from the side.
Light. Almost amused.
He froze and slowly turned his neck.
Among the ruins, the white-haired girl stepped forward.
Her footsteps were light.
But with each step, the surrounding eyes subtly contracted—as if responding to her.
Sato’s mouth trembled.
“You… who are you?”
No sound came out—only broken breath.
His eyes began to redden.
Blood vessels slowly spread across them.
“Why…” his lips were dry.
“Won’t even let me speak…”
A faint trace of despair appeared on his face.
Behind him, the air twisted.
A mass of black mist seeped out.
Rolling, writhing—thick with malice.
Fear and resentment surged through him.
It lunged at her.
Xia Jiuwei stood still and did not dodge.
She simply raised her hand and flicked her wrist.
—Pop.
Like brushing away dust.
The black mist collapsed instantly.
Not even a trace remained.
“Your resentment is meaningless. This is what you were meant to endure.”
Her voice was calm, emotionless.
After extracting most of Sato’s mental energy, Xia Jiuwei casually waved her hand.
As if dealing with something no longer important.
In the next instant—Sato was thrown back into reality.
He was gone without a trace.
“This is fine, right?”
Her tone was relaxed, as if confirming a routine task.
“Technically, his psyche has already collapsed. From here on, his life will probably just alternate between prison and psychiatric hospitals.”
She turned her head toward Saotome, as if asking Saotome for confirmation.
Saotome was silent for a moment.
Her fingers tightened slightly before she nodded.
“…Mm.”
Xia Jiuwei said nothing more.
She glanced once at where Sato had disappeared.
Her gaze paused briefly.
Then shifted away.
The world was never fair.
Some people are driven into corners.
And some always justify their cruelty as something deserved.
She had no intention of convincing anyone.
Nor of understanding them.
Since she inherited the “Otherworld,”
She would decide what should remain and what should be erased.
“Oh, right.”
She suddenly remembered something.
With a light tap of her finger, space trembled.
Sato was pulled back again.
He collapsed to the ground, eyes unfocused, breathing chaotic—still trapped in that broken world.
His gaze trembled wildly, then locked onto her.
Xia Jiuwei tilted her head slightly, a faint smile forming.
“You’ve always wanted to know who I am, haven’t you?”
Her tone was soft, even polite.
“If you ever get the chance to speak again—”
She paused, as if choosing her words.
“You can tell others.”
“My name is—Maiden J.”
Sato’s lips trembled.
His throat tightened.
This time—he finally made a sound.
Broken. Barely audible.
“…Maiden J.”
In the next instant, he was thrown back into reality.
Inside the dim prison at night, Sato curled up in a corner.
Both hands gripping his head tightly, nails digging into his scalp.
His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, voice hoarse and cracked.
“Maiden J.”
“Maiden J.”
“Maiden J.”
Like a broken recorder, repeating endlessly.
No one knew what he meant.
And no one cared.
“It’s over.”
Xia Jiuwei stretched lazily, sounding as if she had just finished a long-overdue assignment.
Over the past six months, she had handled Saotome’s situation while also completing high school.
Now—she was a freshman in psychology.
Life seemed to have returned to normal.
At that moment—
the ruins began to change.
Between shattered ground and broken walls,
figures slowly emerged.
Women.
Some young, some even childlike.
They had no physical form—like smoke.
Yet they clearly “existed.”
Saotome froze.
Her fingers unconsciously gripped her sleeve.
“…Who are you?”
The woman in front stepped forward.
Her form was slightly more stable than the others.
“We are what remains,” she said calmly.
“After destruction… the lingering resentment that has not yet dissipated.”
She lowered her head and held up a black-red bead.
It pulsed faintly.
Like a heart.
“The Lord of the Otherworld.”
“Thank you for helping her.”
“This is everything we can offer.”
Behind her, the shadows knelt one by one.
Silent, but heavy.
“We are willing to serve.”
“Only wish—”
Her voice trembled for the first time.
“Please… do something for those like us.”
Silence.
Xia Jiuwei looked at them.
She did not immediately take the bead.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly.
“I didn’t do this for anyone,” she said calmly.
“But—”
She took the bead.
“Since I’m already here, I might as well finish it.”
“Li Li.”
She called softly.
A faint figure appeared.
“Master!! This is an unpurified S-rank ‘Domain’!!”
“It can be directly fused! It will strengthen the body and grant abilities!”
Xia Jiuwei looked at the bead.
Pressed it into her chest.
No explosion. No tearing.
Not even discomfort.
She blinked slightly.
Too quiet.
Too abnormal.
She looked at her hand.
No change.
As if it had always belonged to her.
She frowned slightly and looked up at the spirits.
They said nothing.
Only bowed in unison.
In that moment, she understood something.
The world slowed.
Muscles, nerves, joints—all being recalibrated.
Her fingers moved slightly.
Naturally.
Not as something learned—but as something always known.
Language, skill, perception—all merged into her consciousness.
Far away in reality, Lu Nian’an suddenly paused.
Her pupils contracted slightly.
New “knowledge” surfaced in her mind.
A faint smile slowly formed.
She didn’t respond.
Just waited—for her return.
Before sending Saotome back to Akihabara, Xia Jiuwei confirmed once more.
“Can you prepare a small amount of money for us?”
Saotome froze, then immediately nodded.
“You’ve already done too much for me.”
She smiled faintly.
In the next instant, Saotome was sent back to reality.
The room was silent, as if nothing had happened.
Xia Jiuwei stood still, stretched lazily.
A relaxed smile appeared on her face.
And then—
she disappeared.