Chapter 53: Gabriel's Love Training
A person's life should be lived like this: when she looks back on the past, she will have no regrets for sending herself a thousand miles away to die, nor will she be ashamed for having been an extra in the whole performance; thus, she can proudly say: my entire life and all my energy have been devoted to the greatest undertaking in the world... cultivation!
——by a certain diligent cultivator and secretly talented lazy angel, who claims to have transcended all worldly distractions while still owing rent and ramen money.
...
The dimly lit room was silent except for the rhythmic clacking of keys. The bluish glow from the computer monitor was the only source of light, illuminating Gabriel's pale face and the dark circles under her eyes that betrayed her late-night gaming.
Wearing an oversized pajama shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder, she sat cross-legged on the bed with the keyboard balanced on her lap, her fingers moving at lightning speed. The crisp "click-clack" sounds echoed like a battle drum, each strike of the key an attack in her virtual war.
After a furious minute of typing, her in-game character fell to the ground, defeated. On the chat window beside her, her opponent typed an arrogant line of text that glowed mockingly on-screen.
Gabriel glared at it, her golden hair slightly messy, and slammed her tiny fist on the desk. "Damn it! Just because you've got all that pay-to-win gear doesn't make you strong! If we had equal equipment, I'd crush you ten times over!"
Her eyes narrowed as she muttered through clenched teeth. "Hmph, mocking me like that… Don't push me! I could blow the horn of doom and destroy the entire world, you hear me?!"
Reality check: she couldn't. But that didn't stop her from saying it.
Still, deep down, even she knew that skill alone couldn't always overcome equipment advantage. Against a fully kitted pay-to-win player, she could only respawn endlessly, watch her character get slaughtered, and grumble to herself while waiting for the death timer to end.
Yes—Gabriel had skipped class again.
After all, as a girl deeply devoted to the way of online gaming—no, cultivation—how could she waste precious time sitting in a dull classroom listening to meaningless lectures about trigonometry and moral education?
After yesterday's "indirect kiss in the cafeteria" disaster, she needed an entire day of digital meditation—better known as gaming—to recover her peace of mind. She refused to admit the truth: she was still mortified by the memory.
The moment she woke up that morning, she'd typed out a sick leave message to the teacher with the speed of a pro gamer.
Vigne, oddly enough, hadn't even tried to stop her. The normally responsible demon girl just looked distracted and melancholy, as if something else weighed on her mind.
"Hmph, fine," Gabriel mumbled, puffing her cheeks as she reached for her drink. "I'll learn Vigne's curse rituals later and use them to curse whoever makes me eat instant noodles without the seasoning pack!"
As she sipped water, a soft chime popped up at the corner of her screen. A blinking window flickered insistently.
She yawned. "Ugh, not another stupid GG ad?" She moved her mouse lazily toward the close button.
But the moment she read the popup, her pupils shrank.
A stranger had sent her a friend request:
'Do you wish to abandon your life as a salted fish? Do you wish to become a true pay-to-win legend?'
The window pulsed again, the text updating automatically:
'Gabriel, you seem to have your eye on the Weaver's Staff in the shop. Don't worry—add me and click accept. It's free.'
"Ha! Nice try! You think I'll fall for that?" Gabriel said righteously… before casually clicking Yes anyway.
'What if it's real?' she thought. 'It's just one click… it can't hurt.'
A cheerful voice chimed from her speakers: "Ding-dong! Your recharge has been credited."
"Eh?!" Gabriel blinked, her wings twitching in shock. She quickly opened the in-game shop—and froze.
Her balance had increased. She had enough credits to buy the Weaver's Staff.
"It—it's real! Holy—It's actually real!" she gasped, almost choking on her drink.
...
Meanwhile, in another place—an elegant office somewhere far from Gabriel's room.
A woman in a sleek black suit sat gracefully on a leather sofa, one leg crossed over the other. She smiled faintly as she adjusted her glasses, the blue light from multiple monitors reflecting off the lenses.
"To take, one must first give," she murmured, closing her laptop. "This small investment is nothing compared to what's coming."
Her phone buzzed.
"Gabriel," she said softly, as if tasting the name. "You also liked that Shadow Cloak, didn't you?"
Back on Gabriel's screen, another message popped up instantly.
"Yeah! Yeah, buy it for me!" Gabriel typed excitedly.
The woman's lips curved upward. "Apologies. That was a limited-time bonus earlier. But if you complete a small task, you'll receive it for free."
"Eh?" Gabriel tilted her head. "What kind of task?"
"Simple," came the reply. "Make a bento with love and deliver it to your neighbor—Kouya."
"..." Gabriel stared blankly at the chat window.
After a long pause, she pounded the keyboard. "No way! Absolutely not! Why would I do something like that?!"
"Reward: 10,000 yen (65$). Paid in advance."
Gabriel froze. In the silence of her dim room, her throat made a faint gulp.
Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard. "N-no, I can't… I won't sell my soul for mere money…"
"20,000 yen (130$)," the message read, calm and unwavering.
Her resolve wavered like a candle flame in the wind.
"B-but…"
"30,000 yen (195$)," came the next line. "Final offer. Refuse, and the deal ends here."
Gabriel clenched her fists, recalling all those times she'd been humiliated by rich players in-game. She trembled, her pride and greed locked in battle.
"Damn it! Fine, I'll do it!" she shouted aloud. "It's just a bento! For gear, anything's worth it!"
...
Elsewhere, at the Kitagawa family villa on the outskirts of town.
The same suited woman stood before a man in his forties, bowing respectfully. "Lord Kitagawa, the mission has begun. The bait is set. The girl will make her move soon."
Kitagawa Yūji nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Good. Continue according to plan."
From the sofa nearby, a younger woman, Kitagawa Kyōko, crossed her arms and frowned. "I still don't get it! That brat killed three of our shikigami! Why aren't we just hunting him down? Why waste time manipulating some girl to fall for him?"
"Silence!"
The cold gleam in Yūji's eyes made her flinch.
"Rules exist for a reason," he said flatly. "Break them, and you'll pay the price."
Kyōko bit her tongue, sitting back down.
Yūji's voice was low and precise. "Revenge without strategy is suicide. You strike the family, they strike back. That leads only to mutual destruction. We need subtlety. We need division."
He stood, turning to the window, the dim light tracing his sharp profile.
"There are only two paths forward. One—direct confrontation. Two—divide and conquer."
"Confrontation sounds glorious," he continued, "but without full understanding of our opponent's strength, it's reckless. A fool's war."
"So we take the second option."
"There are no eternal enemies. Interests can turn foes into allies. Control the emotions, control the field."
The woman in the suit smiled faintly. "Sir, according to our data, Kouya seems utterly ordinary—a quiet high school student with no special traits. Why such attention?"
"Because he's not ordinary," Yūji said. "Anyone who can slay three of our shikigami alone isn't to be underestimated. Whether it's luck, training, or a hidden gift—it doesn't matter. What matters is potential. And potential must either be neutralized or absorbed."
He clasped his hands behind his back. "We lack the assurance to eliminate him outright. Therefore, we weaken him—emotionally, mentally, socially."
Kyōko frowned. "You think he'll fall for such a ploy?"
Yūji's smile was faint but chilling. "He doesn't need to agree. It's enough to make him hesitate."
He tapped a thick report on his desk. "Our intel shows his connection with Ruri from Chiba Shrine is shallow. They met twice, worked together once. Their 'bond' is adolescent illusion—soft, ephemeral, like fog at dawn."
"So we snuff out that illusion before it solidifies," he said softly. "If we play this well, he'll be too entangled to interfere when it matters."
On his desk lay a stack of papers labeled Subject: Kouya.
"Half-blood," one sheet read.
"Mother, local. Father, foreign student. Parents own a rural farm. Cousin, Kobayashi—works as a programmer in the city."
"Introverted. Few friends. Keeps to himself. Academic performance average. Currently first-year student."
"Close female contacts: three classmates."
Yūji's hand lingered on the final page.
"Operation codename: Love Cultivation."
"Target identified: the lazy yet pure-hearted, game-addicted neighbor—Gabriel White."
He smiled coldly. "Method: romantic conditioning. Begin phase one."