"What are they... what are they trying to accomplish by doing this?"
Sorako truly could not comprehend it. Her delicate brow was furrowed deep, and she gnawed on the edge of a fingernail.
"In a situation like this, shouldn't we be helping each other? They're Grade 1 Sorcerers; what's the point of locking us in here?"
"We're just a Grade 2 and a Grade 3."
She hadn't caught the name Zenin Aka had used. Nanamin.
"To buy time."
Nanami Kira traced his fingers lightly across the dense black barrier, answering without particular interest.
"By the time we break through this Curtain, it'll be nightfall."
"Buy time? But what does it matter if it's night—"
Sorako stopped mid-sentence. Her expression slowly froze, as though a memory had surfaced. Her mouth hung open, and the words scraped out from deep in her throat:
"Night... you mean nighttime?"
"That's right. Nighttime."
Nanami Kira nodded. He withdrew his hand from the Curtain and confirmed it.
"After dark, the haunted realm within Amber Mansion comes alive. The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. The third floor will be no exception."
"When that happens, we'll end up just like Sayahi-san."
"Why?"
Sorako slammed a fist into the heavy Curtain. Layer upon layer of ripples radiated outward.
"Why would they do this?!"
She looked to Nanami Kira, eyes filled with desperate hope.
He shrugged, bored.
"Simple. This is Amber Mansion. Taking anything, destroying anything, it all costs something."
"Extracting the barrier node means an auction. An auction means a price paid in lives."
"So they locked us in here, nice and tidy. When night falls, we both die."
Each sentence landed like a hammer blow on Sorako's chest. That flat, dispassionate tone was the coldest thing of all. This girl of nineteen felt the pride she'd carried her entire life begin to crumble.
"They're Jujutsu Sorcerers. How can Sorcerers do something like this? How can they betray their own?"
Nanami Kira didn't spare her a glance. He walked deeper into the warehouse, his back already turned.
"Perfectly normal. I can even understand them. If it were me, I'd do the same."
He checked his watch. It was already past noon; the hands pointed to two o'clock.
Breaking the Curtain at the door would take roughly five hours. Autumn days weren't long. Nightfall would arrive right on cue.
A solid plan. Well-executed. Right about now, the three of them were probably out there sipping red wine from the display cabinet, warming themselves by the fire, waiting for news of his death.
How did they know my name?
That was the sole thing that surprised him.
Between the mask and Hoshino Ei's Concealment, Nanami Kira had hidden his presence flawlessly. On the level of Cursed Energy perception, he was no longer Nanami Kira.
He was certain he hadn't been followed. He hadn't leaked a single detail of his itinerary. Discovery should have been impossible.
A flash of insight.
Of course. When Hoshino Ei's soul was scorched by Amber Mansion, her true body had been exposed: that hand.
Anyone who had seen Hoshino Ei's original form could easily have deduced his real identity from it.
And the people who knew what Hoshino Ei truly looked like numbered only a handful. Former "associates" of hers, the ones she'd worked alongside.
Those Cursed Spirits. Those Special Grade Cursed Spirits.
Now that's genuinely interesting. Nanami Kira recalled Zenin Aka's technique:
Cursed Spirit Manipulation.
Wasn't that essentially the same ability as Geto Suguru's?
He'd concealed his own true identity. Why should anyone else be different?
How very interesting. So even a Special Grade Cursed Spirit has entered the game.
Only one question remained: was Geto Suguru friend or foe?
It didn't particularly matter. For the sake of his own victory, enemies could be used. For the sake of his own victory, allies could be discarded. And they shared a common enemy in the Master of Amber Mansion.
If Geto were truly hostile, he wouldn't have addressed Kira as Nanamin on his way out.
Doing so would expose his own information.
It read more like a gesture of transparency. An overture toward cooperation.
Of course, "cooperation" was a relative term. The man had still stabbed him in the back without hesitation, still locked him in this third floor.
The message was clear enough:
Survive this, and you've earned the right to work with me.
Exploiting the rule that guests couldn't harm each other directly, even after getting out, Kira couldn't take direct revenge.
Cunning bastard.
In a corner out of Sorako's sight, Nanami Kira whispered inwardly: Hoshino.
Hoshino Ei's voice bloomed in his ear, soft and silky-lazy:
"Kira-sensei~"
Like warm breath against his earlobe.
"Confirmed?"
He added, quietly: "And can you stop using that indecent tone?"
"Of course, Kira-sensei~"
Shameless. Triumphant, even. "I can confirm it for sure~ It's Geto Suguru. His own Cursed Energy signature is well-hidden, but that doesn't extend to his Cursed Spirits."
"That Anaconda coiled around his neck. I've seen it before."
So it really was Geto Suguru.
He checked his watch again. Half past two.
Roughly four hours until dark. Escape this sealed room within four hours?
He surveyed his surroundings. Dim torchlight illuminated the gloomy warehouse. Sleeping relics bathed in shadow, Cursed Tools radiating the faint luster of ages past. Given the mansion's rule that Past and Future coexisted, modern artworks were mixed in as well.
Behind him, Sorako had begun working on the Curtain in earnest. Nanami Kira didn't bother joining that exercise in futility. He knew time would run out long before she broke through.
Instead, a different path unfurled in his mind.
The Curtain at the door was too strong to break by force. He'd have to rely on the old method: find the Curtain's barrier node.
"Gojo Grade 3! What are you doing? Get over here and help! We need to work toge—"
So annoying. If not for a certain experiment, I would have snapped ages ago.
He despised stupid, noisy women.
His fingernails were growing longer.
He searched through the warehouse records, only leafing through them without taking anything, and ignored her completely.
An hour passed. He'd searched every corner of the warehouse.
Nothing.
The node wasn't inside. It was somewhere outside. A dead end.
Time crawled on. The autumn rain returned, and though the thick walls muffled it, the pattering still reached their ears, steady, clinging, maddening.