Chapter 92: The Self-Cultivation of a Crossdressing Boss
The night wind howled through the forest, carrying a low, ghostly moan that rippled across the moonlit leaves.
The moonlight spilled down like frost, pale and distant, washing over the clearing in silver light.
Kirigiri's rage built like a storm before erupting into laughter, wild and sharp. His long hair whipped about in the violent aura rolling off him, each strand catching the light like a thousand dark serpents. The very air thickened into mist, trembling under the weight of his killing intent.
"Very good! You're the first one who's ever dared to talk to me like that!" he said, his voice a strange mix of thunder and perfume, a sound that could make even ghosts weep.
Please, just don't talk! Other people kill with their looks—you kill the moment you open your mouth! You're not a crossdressing boss, you're an unfinished experiment in disaster!
The eerie laughter died down. Kirigiri's expression slowly faded, leaving only the lifeless cold in his eyes. Those who had followed him for long knew what that meant: the quieter he became, the closer you were to death.
Seeing this, a few of the little youkai exchanged terrified looks. Some even whispered silent prayers for Kouya, their expressions saying it all: "Brother, you're already dead, but we'll remember you."
A chill filled the clearing. The trees groaned under the pressure, and frost formed on the leaves despite the mild night air.
Kirigiri raised one slender finger—polished nails glinting under the moon—and pointed straight at Kouya.
At his fingertip, space twisted. A swirl of energy began to form, invisible but crushing, dragging the very mist of the forest toward him. The fog gathered from every direction, curling and twisting like living serpents before condensing into a spear of thick, luminous vapor nearly two meters long.
The air hummed violently, trembling from the sheer pressure.
"T-that's... that's a real youkai!" someone gasped.
The Takeda family of four and the group of security guards went white as chalk. They were ordinary humans. Facing this scene of supernatural horror, their knees wobbled uncontrollably. That they hadn't turned tail and fled screaming was a miracle.
The shrine maiden frowned faintly, her eyes narrowing. The moonlight reflected in her calm, sharp gaze.
There were many youkai living quietly among humans, but they kept low profiles, hidden and cautious. For one to not only reveal himself but also command underlings meant his power was beyond ordinary measure.
She turned her gaze toward Kouya.
He stood there without a hint of fear. His face was calm—almost bored—as if he were watching a play rather than facing death. The corner of his mouth even curved in a lazy smirk.
Seeing that, something in the shrine maiden's chest loosened. She didn't understand why, but every time she stood behind Kouya, a strange sense of safety wrapped around her heart. He was younger than her, yet it felt as though she was standing behind a mountain.
Kirigiri's power surged higher, his aura spiraling like a tornado—but instead of attacking, he stopped, reached into his pocket... and pulled out a sleek, new smartphone.
"What... what is he doing?" someone whispered.
"Idiot, hurry up!" Kirigiri barked in irritation.
"Y-yes, boss!" one scrawny youkai jumped up, scuttling to his side like a loyal lackey. With shaking hands, he reached to his belt and pulled out something long and black.
The shrine maiden blinked, her pink lips parting slightly in disbelief. The other onlookers followed her gaze, their faces frozen in a mixture of shock and horror.
Because that little youkai had just produced... a selfie stick.
Kirigiri took it with practiced elegance, clipped his phone in, adjusted the lighting, and—click, click, click—the rapid sound of the camera shutter broke the tense silence.
He angled himself for the perfect shot, chin tilted, mist swirling dramatically behind him.
"Is he... is he taking selfies?" one guard muttered blankly.
"Y-yeah... he's actually... taking selfies," another said numbly.
Everyone stared in silence, their brains collectively short-circuiting.
Seriously!?
All that power, all that buildup, and you're just charging up... to take selfies!?
Is this the final ritual of a crossdressing boss—channeling killing intent into the perfect Instagram post!?
The shrine maiden rubbed her temple slowly and murmured, "...That's not a technique. That's a sickness. It needs treatment."
Not just a sickness—terminal selfie addiction.
In modern times, the human world had developed a plague known as "selfie cancer." It infected everyone. Whether waking up, putting on makeup, eating breakfast, or finishing a workout, people couldn't resist snapping a picture.
Even a girl in a car crash once refused medical treatment because she wanted to take a selfie first, claiming she needed to "apply a filter and fix her skin."
Girl, your skin is literally bleeding! You're not applying a filter—you're exfoliating your soul!
Kouya exhaled sharply through his nose, recalling a news report he'd seen not long ago. During a hijacking over Egypt, one passenger had calmly taken a selfie with the bomber wearing a live explosive vest. Humanity, truly, had evolved into something else.
The clearing went dead silent again.
In that awkward, absurd stillness, Kirigiri finished taking pictures. He scrolled through the shots, nodded in satisfaction, and then spun dramatically, raising his misty spear high.
"Alright," he declared with the confidence of a runway model, "prepare to face my wrath!"
Shut up, you damn freak!
Every time you open your mouth, the atmosphere collapses!
And that grin! You're not unleashing wrath—you're waiting for compliments online!
As the tension began to rise again, Kouya suddenly lifted a hand.
"Wait."
Kirigiri froze, eyebrow arching. "Oh? What's this? Begging for mercy already?" His tone was playful, mocking.
The Takeda family and the guards exchanged uneasy glances. Could Kouya actually be losing his nerve now? Even his calm seemed unreal.
But the shrine maiden didn't flinch. She looked at him quietly, trusting him without reason. Something about him felt... unbreakable.
Kouya reached into his pocket again, took out his ringing phone, and answered with perfect nonchalance. "One second."
The tension shattered. Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.
"Where are you? Are you coming back tonight?" Gabriel's familiar voice chimed through the line, casual and a little concerned.
The shrine maiden's brow twitched. A girl's voice? And she's asking if he's coming home tonight? Her fingers tightened against her chest.
"I've got some things to handle," Kouya said evenly. "Probably not coming back."
"Oh, okay... that's fine," Gabriel said softly, clearly relieved.
"Something wrong?" Kouya asked.
"N-no! Nothing! I just wanted to check! I'm gonna go play games now!" she blurted before hanging up.
Kouya stared at his phone, his face darkening slightly. She called just to say that? What the hell was that about?
Definitely suspicious.
The shrine maiden exhaled quietly, a faint smile curving her lips. "So... it's not that kind of relationship."
She knew her feelings toward Kouya weren't yet love, but there was definitely something there. A strange pull. Yet women were complicated. Even if she didn't want him, she hated the idea of someone else having him.
Hearing him talk so casually with another girl sent a faint prick of jealousy through her chest.
"Maybe... I should do something," she whispered softly to herself, her eyes uncertain yet curious.
Kouya pocketed his phone again and lifted his gaze, his voice cool and steady. "Alright. Let's continue."
Kirigiri smirked, the mist swirling tighter around him as he raised his arm. The fog twisted violently, forming the long, gleaming spear of vapor—the "Spear of Fog."
He flicked his wrist, and the weapon shot forward with a shrill whistle, tearing through the air like a lightning bolt. The spear aimed for Kouya's shoulder—not to kill, but to wound, to humiliate. Kirigiri wanted to watch him suffer first.
He folded his arms across his chest, the corners of his mouth curving upward in cruel anticipation. Soon he'd hear it—the scream, the shock, the despair.
That was how it always went.
Power ruled the youkai world. Mercy was for fools. He had clawed his way to the top by strength alone, and now this insolent human would learn the difference between a mortal and a crossdressing boss.
Ever since embracing the way of lace and silk, his power had soared. His enemies had fallen. His followers worshipped him. No ordinary creature could withstand this blow.
In his mind, the scene was already clear—the arrogant boy pierced clean through, his body flung backward as the mist dispersed in a glorious explosion.
But then...
Something changed.
Kirigiri's grin froze mid-laugh.
His pupils dilated.
His heart skipped a beat.