Curse Return: Demon Void Girl Doesn't Want to Be a Weakling

She left the station and walked westward.

There was a strong magical reaction there last night; we can go check it out today.

At 10 a.m., Mashiro arrived at an old commercial district in the western suburbs of Tokyo.

Most of the buildings here were built twenty or thirty years ago and are now largely abandoned. The streets are deserted, with few pedestrians, and the concentration of curse energy is significantly higher than in central Shibuya.

She stopped in front of an abandoned office building.

There was a level-two cursed spirit in the building, its aura murky and carrying a rotten smell.

Although she was at a level that only a master like Fushiguro Megumi could barely contend with, she was still full of confidence.

"This one will do."

She gripped the hilt of Cong Yu's knife and walked into the building.

The battle lasted for twenty minutes.

The cursed spirit was a corpse-type creature with a festering body that could spray corrosive pus and extend tentacles from its wounds to entwine itself.

Mashiro initially suffered a setback when pus sprayed onto her left arm, causing a large area of ​​her skin to ulcerate instantly. The pain was so intense that she almost dropped her knife.

But instead of retreating, she charged forward to meet the attack.

Click-clack.

Let the pus spray onto your body again and again, and let the tentacles wrap around your limbs again and again.

Adapt, adapt, adapt.

When she was sprayed with pus for the tenth time, she felt the corrosive pain had lessened by 70%. The tentacles' grip also seemed weak; she could break free with a little effort.

Then, draw the knife.

As the rain swept across the corpse's neck, the cursed spirit collapsed, turning into black smoke that was absorbed by the rain. Mashiro felt her cursed power increase again.

"Level two cursed spirits can indeed absorb more cursed power," she estimated. "To reach level two, about seven or eight of these would be enough."

She can now exorcise level two cursed spirits on her own, which means she has combat power at the level of Fukuro Megumi.

"How about we go to Sendai and get to know Itajitsuki? It's about time."

She pondered this as she stepped out of the abandoned office building; the sunlight was rather harsh.

The festering wound on her left arm was healing, but the new skin was very tender and turned slightly red when exposed to sunlight. She pulled down her sleeve to cover it and continued walking.

At 1 p.m., Mashiro bought fried noodles and bottled water from a roadside stall on a shopping street and ate them while sitting on a park bench.

There weren't many people in the park. A few elderly people were playing chess in the distance, and a mother was pushing a stroller past.

She ate her bread, her gaze sweeping over her surroundings.

Then, she saw someone.

A man in his twenties or thirties, dressed in a simple suit and carrying a briefcase, was sitting on a bench not far away, looking down at a document.

He looked at it intently, his brows slightly furrowed, occasionally making a mark on it with a pen.

Mashiro's gaze lingered on his face for a few seconds.

That face... looks familiar.

She searched her memory.

Comics, plot, characters...

She remembered.

The sun shines brightly.

The lawyer who awakened his magic in the cycle of death and destruction.

Right now, he hasn't awakened his magic yet; he's just an ordinary person.

Mashiro continued eating her bread, but her gaze remained fixed on the bread.

Hiromi Hiraka seemed to have encountered a problem. He put down the documents, rubbed his temples, and sighed.

Then he looked up and met Mashiro's gaze.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds.

Hiromi Hirakawa was taken aback for a moment, then gave her a professional, gentle smile and nodded slightly. Mashiro expressionlessly looked away and continued eating her fried noodles.

But Hiromi Hinoki didn't seem to intend to end this chance encounter so easily.

He put away the documents, stood up, straightened the hem of his suit jacket, and then walked towards Mashiro.

Mashiro didn't look up, but her grip on the bread tightened slightly.

"Excuse me." Hiromi Higurashi stopped two steps away from the bench, his voice gentle and polite. "I noticed you've been sitting here alone for a while. I apologize if I'm being presumptuous, but you look... as if you need help?"

Mashiro slowly swallowed the bread in her mouth and looked up.

Upon closer inspection, Hiromi Nichisha appears younger than in the manga, but fine lines have already appeared around his eyes.

Thirty-six years old, a public defense lawyer—that's his current identity. His suit was an inexpensive ready-made one, but it was ironed perfectly, and his shoes had worn edges but were clean.

He exudes a serious, almost rigid, air about him.

It was a role she respected.

It's a character she likes.

Mashiro suppressed her excitement at seeing a character from the original work and tried to answer in a calm tone: "No need."

"Is that so?" Seeing that Mashiro didn't leave immediately, Hiroshi's gaze lingered on her for a moment, from her obviously oversized baseball cap to her slightly tattered black tracksuit, the unnatural bulge at her waist, and the several shallow scabbed marks on her bare wrists.

"If you encounter any difficulties, you can contact social welfare organizations, or..." He paused, took out a business card from his briefcase, and handed it over with both hands.

"I am a lawyer, and although I mainly handle criminal defense cases, I also have some knowledge of laws related to the protection of minors. If you need legal advice, please contact me; the first consultation is free."

The business card was simple, with white background and black lettering, containing only the name, affiliation, and contact information.

Mashiro looked at the business card but didn't take it immediately.

A gentle breeze blew through the park, and the laughter of children drifted from afar.

"Attorney Hiromi Nichisha," she read the name from the business card, her voice very soft.

"Yes." Hiromi Nichisha maintained the posture of handing out his business card.

Mashiro finally reached out and took it. The business card still had a faint scent of paper and felt very substantial.

She stared at the words for two seconds, then looked up at Hiromi Ryukyu.

"Do you believe in the rules?" she suddenly asked.

Hiromi Nichisha paused for a moment, then replied seriously, "As a legal professional, I believe that rules are the foundation for the functioning of society."

"What if the rules themselves are flawed?" Mashiro continued. "If the rules protect those who shouldn't be protected and punish those who shouldn't be punished, what would you do?"

This question clearly went beyond ordinary pleasantries. Hiromi Higurashi straightened up, frowned slightly, but still thought carefully before answering: "The legal system itself has a mechanism for correction. If injustice is found in the rules, it can be corrected through various means such as legislative procedures, judicial interpretations, and the accumulation of precedents. This is precisely one of the significances of the work of legal professionals."

A very standard answer.

The answer is very obvious.

A slight smile curved at the corners of Mashiro's lips.

"Is that so?" She put the business card in her pocket and stood up from the bench. She only reached Hiroki Nichisha's chest, but the way she looked up at him was unreadable to him.

"Attorney Nissan, you're a good person," she said. "In this world, good people often live very tiring lives."

Mashiro understood that this person was the type who would go to great lengths for the sake of justice, and her advice might not be effective.

Hiromi Hiraka opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but Mashiro didn't give him the chance.

"It's good that you believe in the rules. But one day, you will encounter predicaments that the rules cannot solve. You will encounter crimes that cannot be measured by legal provisions. You will encounter enemies who stand in the loopholes of the rules and laugh at you."

Her voice was calm, and her eyes were straightforward, which made Nichisha continue to listen attentively.

"When that time comes, remember one thing," Mashiro pulled down her hat, her crimson eyes appearing particularly deep in the shadow of the brim, "Rules are tools, not shackles. When you truly want to judge something, you need more than just legal provisions."

She raised her hand and pointed to the location of Hiroshi Ryoma's heart.

"It's about having the awareness to use the rules for your own benefit."

After saying that, she stopped looking at Hiromi's expression and turned to leave.

Hiromi Higurashi stood there, watching her receding figure, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. He subconsciously raised his hand to his chest, where the faint touch of her fingertips seemed to linger.

"Rules are tools, the awareness of judgment..." He repeated these two sentences in a low voice, feeling that there was some important information hidden in these words, but he had no clue. "Who is that girl?"

Mashiro had already left the park and rejoined the flow of people on the street.

She touched the business card in her pocket, her fingertips brushing over the four characters "日車宽見" (Nichisha Kuanjian).

"That's all I can do," she murmured to herself. "The rest is beyond my control."

She had no idea how much impact those words would have in the future.

Perhaps Hiromi will forget this strange silver-haired little girl tomorrow, or perhaps these words will leave something in his heart, taking root and sprouting on the day the return of death arrives.

For now, she's had a blast being a riddle teller.

Mashiro looked up at the western sky. The afternoon sun was a bit too bright. She pulled up her hat brim and continued walking.

There are also cursed spirits that need to be exorcised.

We still need to accumulate strength.

She is still too weak.