I quickly slipped the book beneath my clothes with careful movements, pressing it lightly against my chest so it wouldn't shift and making sure its shape didn't stand out from the outside.
After that, I tucked the pen into my trouser pocket, checking once more to ensure it wouldn't fall out. Every motion I made was slow and deliberate, as if I were carrying a secret that absolutely no one was allowed to discover.
Once everything was in place, I began walking down from the second floor of the orphanage at an unhurried pace. The soles of my feet touched each wooden step cautiously, trying to muffle any creaking sounds so I wouldn't draw attention. Each step felt longer than usual, my heartbeat steady yet alert, like a quiet drum keeping time.
"Ah, Kenji! You're finally coming down! Do you want to play with the others?" A woman's voice made me turn my face toward the kitchen.
There stood a woman with long black hair neatly tied back, wearing a simple apron. Her hands looked slightly wet, as if she had just finished washing dishes or preparing food. Her face was adorned with a warm, sincere smile—a kind of smile that made this place feel like home for the other children.
"Hahaha, I want to play outside the orphanage. Is that okay?" I tried to act like a normal child. My lips curved into an innocent smile, and I made my tone sound cheerful, a little spoiled, like a child asking for permission without a single worry in the world.
Even though I knew this would most likely work, I still had to try. There was no harm in playing this role just a little better.
"I know you've only been here for a month, and I'm also certain you still miss your parents, who passed away in an accident. That's why you fell ill with a fever two days ago and kept murmuring their names," the woman said in a gentle, caring voice. Each word flowed slowly, without judgment, without pressure. Her gaze was warm and sincere, like that of a mother who truly cared about the child standing before her.
"But now you have me, and you also have them—your friends." As she spoke, she glanced toward the yard, where the other children were playing. "If you ever feel sad and want to talk, I'll always be here for you. Do you understand, Kenji?"
Although I heard every word that came from her mouth clearly, I didn't truly care about the softness of her voice. My attention was drawn instead to the facts she had just revealed—fragments of information that felt far more important to me.
It turned out that the owner of this body had only been here for about a month. Most likely, a month ago, this boy's parents had died, and since then, he had been living in this orphanage.
Two days ago, this boy had fallen ill with a fever, severe enough that he kept muttering his parents' names. My thoughts spun rapidly, assembling one possibility after another. Did this child die because of that fever… and then I replaced his soul?
Did this child truly die as a result of the illness brought on by the fever?
The question hovered heavily in my mind, refusing to be answered so simply.
If that's the case, then, kid… thank you for giving me your body. I'll make sure to survive in this world.
Those words were spoken only in my heart, soft yet firm. Not as a justification, but as a promise. A promise to the soul that had departed, to a life that had been cut short before it could choose anything at all. This body might be small and fragile, but my consciousness was no longer the same. I would use it better—be more stubborn against fate.
I promise I'll survive. Now, it's time for me to go.
The decision fell like a hammer.
There was no doubt left. This world was not a kind place, and I already knew far too much to pretend I could live quietly in some small corner of the orphanage. If I wanted to live, then I had to move—now, before everything became too late.
"Ah, I understand, caretaker," I said with a smile.
The smile felt light on my face, yet hollow behind it. An expression I had learned quickly—warm enough to reassure, polite enough to avoid questions. Adults liked obedient children, and I made good use of that fact.
"Just call me Yukina," the woman said.
Her voice was gentle. Yukina was the kind of person who was easy to trust; her smile was sincere, her movements full of care and consideration. She knew nothing about the hidden world, and I hoped she never would. People like her deserved to live in peaceful ignorance.
"Then I'll be going first, Miss Yukina!" I said, quickly stepping out of the orphanage building, where I was immediately greeted by the morning sunlight. I glanced to the right, where the other orphanage children were playing together.
The sunlight dazzled me for a moment—warm and bright, a sharp contrast to the dark decision I had just made. The children's laughter echoed across the yard, light and innocent. They ran about without a care, unaware of how fragile the world around them truly was. I only looked once—just enough to remember their faces—then turned away before my resolve could waver.
I walked away from the orphanage, passing through the iron gate and putting distance between myself and that place. Every step widened the gap, not just physically, but also from a quiet life that remained ignorant of the danger lurking beneath it. The iron gate closed softly behind me, and that small sound felt like a line I could not easily cross again.
The sound itself was simple, yet to my ears it was the closing of a chapter. Behind that gate lay routine, false safety, and an ignorance that protected. Ahead of me waited uncertainty—and real threats invisible to ordinary eyes.
Along the way, I saw all kinds of people. The morning scenery around the orphanage felt peaceful—too peaceful. Ordinary faces, casual laughter, trivial conversations. But now I knew that beneath that calm, negative emotions were constantly leaking out without anyone realizing it, spreading thinly and chaotically through the air. That was where Cursed Spirits were born.
Small anxieties, fleeting envy, suppressed anger—everything mixed together into an invisible current. Like a thin mist I could feel against my skin, sending chills down my neck. They walked through the very source of their own disaster, blind and relaxed. And because of that, they were fragile.
I walked for quite some time until the forest finally came into view. The dense trees and cooler air made my chest feel a little lighter. Without hesitation, I entered, distancing myself from human traces. Places like this were quieter, more honest—free from random emotions crashing into one another.
Each step deeper into the forest felt like shedding a burden. The sounds of the city faded away, replaced by rustling leaves and the breath of the wind. There was no inner noise from people here. Only nature, silence, and a pure, natural tension.
After walking deep enough into the forest, I found a wide clearing hidden among the trees. This was where I stopped. A place open enough, yet still isolated. If I failed, at least no one else would be affected.
The ground was flat, surrounded by tall trees that formed natural walls. No traces of humans, no signs of life other than insects and birds. The perfect place for a first mistake—or the last one.
Alright… where do I start now?
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