Was it really the Underworld, that shadowed mirror of the city? Or was she just chasing ghosts?

Yun Shi’s thoughts boiled like a pot left on high heat, froth and steam but no answer.

If Miyuki Kiseki had been pulled into Underworld strife, the ending wrote itself like a storm rolling in. Those people hid like owls at dusk; when they fought on their own turf, they wove barriers out of Mystic Power, like spider-silk domes over a battlefield. Unless someone with Mystic Power forced it open, or the barrier faded like mist at sunrise, ordinary folk never saw their wars. Miyuki Kiseki looked like the latter—she’d wandered in after the clash, when the lattice fell, stepping barefoot onto a field that hadn’t been cleaned, like a deer crossing scorched grass.

That possibility loomed like a low cloud.

Miyuki Kiseki was just a student; showing her the Underworld’s night was a bad omen. She was too gentle, like spring water that shouldn’t be muddied. Yun Shi couldn’t picture it—the girl’s bright, clear gaze learning the world’s other face. Maybe she’d end up like Yun Shi, fallen and scarred, a body of bruises under moonlight.

“Trouble. How much more trouble is this girl gonna dump on me? Damn it.”

Yun Shi clicked her tongue; the sound was sharp as pebbles in a bowl.

School had let out, yet her mind drifted like a kite in a crosswind. Classmates streamed off in twos and threes, laughter like sparrows along a fence, arguing about a cosmetics store’s new drop, trading endless skincare gossip like rain that never stops. The boys talked game schedules, or passed around contraband mags, their grins like cats at fish stalls.

Once, she’d had those friends too—laughing, going wild, quarrels that broke like waves and never cracked the rocks beneath. That was a past life, burned into ash.

Now, at least, someone still stood beside her when she needed words.

Yun Shi caught herself spiraling. She shook her head, as if shaking water from her hair. This wasn’t the time to drift. She needed a plan for Miyuki Kiseki. If the girl had stumbled into the Underworld, guiding her back to daylight wouldn’t be easy. With Yun Shi’s status and strength, she couldn’t untangle this knot, even though she was a Witch rare for her power.

Honestly, Miyuki Kiseki owed her.

School messes weren’t even settled, and now this. The idiot swore she wouldn’t quit investigating, yet somehow birthed a brand-new disaster.

She could complain till sundown, but it wouldn’t change a thing. Trouble clung to Miyuki like burrs on a coat.

“Fine. I’ll chalk it up to her treating me like a friend.”

Yun Shi sighed, breath like a thin line of smoke.

Call Sham. See if she knows big names inside the Magic Institution, people who can press this down like a lid on boiling soup. If Miyuki Kiseki got caught in a Witch fight, that was manageable. If she walked into a Clan Head’s family feud, that was a hornet’s nest.

She felt like her “soft-hearted” switch had flipped on; maybe it was an illusion, like heat-haze over a road.

Yun Shi was about to find Sham, when a familiar chill knifed through her—deep and clean, like water from a stone well.

Years crawling through the Underworld had taught her that sensation like the smell of rain before a storm.

“A barrier?”

Before her, faint lines shimmered, firefly glow clinging to threadwork. At a speed too quick for bare eyes, a half-dome formed around the space. As a holder of Mystic Power, Yun Shi watched the whole weave, saw the place get sealed like a pearl in resin.

“Underworld folk, huh…”

No need to think twice. No one else makes this kind of cage.

A sealed space, built from Mystic Power, wrapped from the inside out. The technique kept outsiders blind during a fight, and filtered the people inside like water through sand. If someone stood where the spell dropped, the barrier wrapped their spot like a bell jar. Yet they wouldn’t perceive the new skin; they’d go on with their day, never knowing they stood where a spell had been cast. That way, the Underworld could brawl in peace.

Picture the “Fuzetsu” in Shakugan no Shana—that’s the idea, like time bottled and set aside.

Unless the caster wanted a specific person left inside, most folks would never step into that space.

“Don’t tell me the target is… Miyuki Kiseki…”

Yun Shi’s mind flashed sharp as a blade. No way someone skulking around Rakuyoku High School would cast so openly, unless they didn’t mind attention for a reason carved in stone.

Seven chances out of ten said they were after Miyuki Kiseki. She felt sure as thunder.

“Damn it!”

Her fist slammed the barrier’s shell; ripples spread like rings in a pond.

Meanwhile, Sham walked shoulder to shoulder with her friend Mizuki, chatting down a campus path.

“Next time, I can take you to the beach, Sham-chan~”

“Thanks, Mizuki. Ah, this feels so lucky. With you here~”

“Hehe, you flatter me.”

“As a thank-you, I’ll… hmm?”

Sham stopped mid-sentence, feet braking like a dancer’s, and turned toward the classroom building with a fox’s puzzled tilt.

“What’s wrong, Sham-chan?”

Mizuki asked, curious as a sparrow. Sham didn’t answer.

Inside that building, Mizuki—who felt unwell and planned to leave early—walked the corridor one step at a time, like crossing a quiet bridge. Suddenly, the space changed like paper soaked in ink. A normal hallway turned eerie; every student vanished from view as if swallowed by fog. Only Mizuki remained. The scene in front of her looked stained black, cold enough to raise goosebumps.

“What?”

Mizuki Kiseki frowned, suspicion like a prickle. She took a few steps forward and peered out the window.

The sight shocked her—outside sky looked like night had dropped fast, painted a deep violet that crawled under the skin. This passageway—no, the entire campus—felt empty but for her, as if the entire world had drained away, leaving one heartbeat echoing in a shell.

“Night… no, no, that’s wrong. The time’s wrong…”

She shook her head hard, like trying to shake off cobwebs. The sense of dread and fear kept swelling like a tide; it wouldn’t be pushed down.

Anyone would be afraid. Even stone feels the rain.

“Honestly. You made me search, little one.”

“Who’s there!”

The voice behind her was cold as a blade from ice. Mizuki spun and shouted without thinking. A young woman stepped into view, a smile pasted on, but eyes as flat as still water.

“Just like Yanbu said. A regular student. Nothing on you. What a pity~”

Her sultry voice slid like silk over skin, but to Mizuki it was a demon’s whisper from a furnace.

“D-don’t come closer!”

Panicked, Mizuki shuffled back, heels skidding like chalk on slate.

“Oh? This might be fun.”

The woman watched with lazy interest, eyes tracking the girl retreating toward the wall like a moth to a window.

“Hey, Anlise De Eilte—this one’s the target.”

A young man strolled over, boredom like dust on his face.

“Happy now, Yanbu?”

Anlise’s gaze flicked to the man called Yanbu, annoyance like a raised eyebrow.

“Who are…”

Mizuki stepped back, but there was no more room; the wall pressed cold at her spine.

“The Soul Gem. It really is here.”

Interest flashed across the young man’s face, close to joy, like a spark catching dry leaves.

“I felt a twitch of Mystic Power on this brat, the same wave as that person. I’ve hunted so long, and finally found the thing I wanted.”

Mizuki didn’t wait to hear more. She bolted, instinct screaming like a hawk’s cry, sprinting to get anywhere else, anywhere not here.

“Shame it’s carried by a clueless girl. Doesn’t matter anymore.”

Far ahead, Mizuki ran without looking back, as if motion alone could throw off fear like a cloak. Every place to stop felt like a trap.

Air sliced the corridor with a hard hiss, a current darting straight for her like a thrown spear.

Dodge!

Her brain flashed one word like lightning, and her legs obeyed before thought caught up.

Boom!

The air-blade gouged a deep trench where she’d stood, carving the floor like a plow through wet earth. If she hadn’t halted a heartbeat earlier…

“Oh? Not bad. You dodged.”

The young man sounded surprised, but it didn’t slow his next strike. His intent poured like cold wind.

“W-who are you? Why do you want to kill me!”

Mizuki bit down on the quake in her chest and yelled her question, hoping words could stall a blade. For a breath, it did; he paused, like a cat before it pounces.

“My name? Hmph. Fine. No harm knowing it before you die.”

He chuckled, blade flashing a silver arc like a crescent moon.

“Remember this. I am Yanbu Junichi.”

Air carved into weapons, edges honed by speed, and they lunged for Mizuki like wolves breaking from brush.

Her eyes flew wide. She dropped flat, reaction quick as a falling leaf, and the savage strikes scythed overhead, finding nothing but air.

“Count me in, Yanbu!”

Anlise’s face sharpened with killing intent, cold as frost. She kicked off hard, body springing into the air like a bow loosed, and sent a spread of darts with a flick, glittering like starlings.

Mizuki rolled, grit biting her palms, and barely made the throw miss, the darts sparking against tile.

“Bring them in.”

Yanbu Junichi snapped his fingers; the sound was dry as kindling.

A second later, black-clad men poured in from every angle like shadows filling a room. Each gripped a gun like a snake held by the neck.

“—Wait… the stuff at school… was that you…”

Even under a cliff-edge threat, Mizuki’s thoughts kept spinning; the question spilled out of her like water through a crack.

“Yes. So what.”

A cruel smile tugged his mouth, and his blade drank a pale-blue aura like frost over steel.

Air shaped itself into strikes again, whipping for Mizuki, who stood stunned in the violet gloom.