Ms. Gojo thought she was dating an ordinary person's boyfriend.

The following afternoon, Gojo Satoru sat in the car where the assistant supervisor was working, casually scrolling through his phone.

The mission had just ended—a level one cursed spirit, nothing special. He leaned back in his chair, legs crossed high, the light from his phone screen reflecting off his eye mask.

As he rummaged through the items, he stopped and changed his posture. As he did so, Gojo Satoru felt something poke him in his pocket.

He reached in and pulled out a candy wrapper.

"...This candy."

He stared at the candy wrapper for a few seconds, then looked up.

"Ichichi."

Kiyoshi Ijichi, sitting in the front row, shrugged slightly: "Y-yes!"

"Could you buy me this candy?"

It just so happened to be a traffic light intersection. When the red light came on, he handed over the candy wrapper.

Ijichi reached out and took it, looked at it closely, then flipped it over to check the back, and finally held it up to the light from the car window.

"Mr. Gojo, what brand is this...?"

"have no idea."

"Which store did you buy it from?"

"I don't know either."

Ijichi's hand holding the candy wrapper began to tremble slightly: "Then...where can I buy some...?"

Gojo Satoru tilted his head, his tone nonchalant: "Well, it's this kind of candy. Buy a lot. You don't really have much to do anyway, right?"

Ichiji really wanted to say that the task reports, personnel scheduling, and logistical arrangements he had to deal with every day would be as tall as a person if they were piled up, but he didn't dare to.

"Okay, okay." He carefully put the candy wrapper into his suit pocket, already mentally calculating all the shops in Tokyo that might sell imported candy.

Three hours later.

Ichichi stood at the checkout counter of an imported food supermarket, sweat beading on her forehead.

"Really not? The packaging is transparent, with stars and moons drawn on it, and maybe some kind of magic circle pattern—"

The shop assistant shook his head: "Sir, I really haven't seen this one before. We import over two hundred kinds of candy, and I can show you each one, but we certainly don't have this one you're describing."

Ichi glanced at his phone.

Gojo Satoru sent me a message: 【Did you find it?~】

He swallowed hard, typed a reply: "Still looking." Then he gritted his teeth and went into the next store.

Two hours later.

Ijichi stood on the street in Shinjuku, the setting sun casting a long shadow over him.

He visited seven supermarkets, three imported food stores, and two niche shops specializing in handmade candies. None of them had that kind of candy.

Some shop assistants even looked at him suspiciously: "Sir, are you sure you bought this in Japan? I don't think I've ever seen the text on this packaging before..."

Ijichi dragged his tired body back to the car and dialed Gojo Satoru's number.

"Mr. Gojo..."

"Hmm~ Found it?"

"I'm sorry, I've searched all over Shinjuku and Shibuya, gone to every possible place, but..." Ijichi gripped her phone tightly, "not a single store carries this candy. The shop assistants said they've never seen this packaging before."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.

Then came a lazy "Oh".

Ichiji waited anxiously for what would happen next.

"Never mind then," Gojo Satoru said. "Come back."

"But...but..."

"It's nothing, it's probably just a limited edition from some independent craft workshop." Gojo Satoru's voice sounded nonchalant. "Well, it's not a big deal anyway."

The call was disconnected.

Ijichi held the phone, stunned for a long while.

"Mr. Gojo... the candy you specifically asked me to find, is it really not a big deal?"

He had doubts, but he didn't dare to ask. He could only start the car and drive back.

That night, after finishing his day's work, Gojo Satoru lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The phone screen was lit up, displaying the search page he had just opened.

"Star pattern on transparent candy packaging"

"Moon Magic Circle Candy"

Imported Strawberry Flavored Candy

The search results page showed a bunch of pictures: star-shaped candies, candies in transparent packaging, and candies with cartoon girls printed on them, but none of them matched up.

He took a candy wrapper and searched it carefully, trying to find some clues, but found nothing.

He didn't recognize any of the words on those candy wrappers.

It wasn't any language he could recognize.

If you didn't know better, you'd think it came from another world.

"...I definitely ate it."

That night, he ate two of the candies the doctor gave him.

The taste is indeed different from ordinary sugar; it's refreshingly unlike an industrial product.

"I think I made it myself."

Homemade candy, of course, can't be bought.

Gojo Satoru tossed his phone aside, turned over, and faced the wall.

A pediatrician's words.

You must be quite busy.

As for him personally, his work covers the entire country, and sometimes he travels for more than ten hours at a time.

The doctor, too, in a hospital, there's never a time when he/she can leave work on time. And meeting him at the convenience store that night was purely coincidental.

Who knows if we'll ever meet again?

Gojo Satoru rolled over again, now facing the ceiling.

He closed his eyes.

It's a little disappointing that I found candy I really liked...

The next day, Tokyo Metropolitan Hospital.

The windows of the pediatric clinic face east, and the morning sunlight shines in at an angle, casting warm spots of light on the white walls.

The wall is covered with cartoon stickers of bunnies, bears, and giraffes, which look especially soft in the sunlight.

Unfortunately, this heartwarming scene was interrupted by a sound of someone slamming their hand on the table.

"I told you I wanted antibiotics! My child has a fever of 39 degrees Celsius! What's wrong with you doctors?!"

Inside the consultation room, a middle-aged man slammed his fist on the table, his face flushed red. Beside him sat a listless little boy, his cheeks burning red, leaning back in his chair, looking utterly dejected.

Kikawa Sumi and the others sat opposite him, the medical record book spread out on the table. He looked at the angry man, but his expression didn't change much.

"I understand you want your child to get better quickly," he explained calmly, "but the child has a viral cold, and antibiotics are ineffective against viruses. Prescribing them might even cause side effects."

"That's how we've always treated it!" the man glared. "When we used to catch a cold and went to the hospital, did we never get an injection or take medicine?"

"There used to be many unregulated treatments," Kikawa said calmly, "but now there are better options."

"What do you mean? Are you saying I made a mistake in treating the child before?"

The man's voice suddenly grew louder, startling the child beside him, who shrank back.

The sound of typing stopped, and Sumi Kichikawa raised her eyes and quietly looked at the man.

The corners of his mouth, which always had a gentle curve, flattened out. His expression was calm, but his eyes were as cold as a frozen lake.

"If you insist on having antibiotics," Kikawa Sumi's voice remained polite, but the temperature in the consultation room seemed to drop two degrees instantly, "that's fine. You can request a change of attending physician. I will write down the situation in the medical record and attach my diagnostic recommendations."

The man was stunned, his mouth agape, but he couldn't utter a word.

"But as your child's current attending physician, I still hope you can listen to my opinion," Sumi Kichikawa continued, speaking slowly and clearly.

"After all, my responsibility is to provide the correct treatment plan based on the examination results and clinical symptoms, not to meet all the parents' demands."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the little boy beside him who had shrank back because of his father's loud voice.

"I understand you're very worried because your child has a fever." Kikawa Sumi looked at the man again, her tone softening, but still without a smile.

"But please believe me, just like you, I hope he gets better soon. And the right treatment is the fastest way for him to recover."

The man's anger froze. He looked at Kikawa Sumi, then at his feverish son, his lips moved, and finally slumped back into his chair.

"...Then, let's do it your way."

"Okay." Sumi Kichikawa nodded, looked back at the computer screen, and began typing on the keyboard, her tone returning to its usual gentleness.

"If you sweat profusely after taking fever-reducing medication, wipe yourself dry promptly and change into dry clothes to avoid catching a chill. Eat a light diet; porridge or noodles are fine..."

The man gave a muffled "hmm" and didn't say anything more.

After prescribing the medicine and seeing the father and son off, Kikawa Sumi let out a soft breath and rubbed her temples.

"Dr. Kikawa..." Kobayashi, the nurse in charge of the consultation room, peeked in, her voice low and her eyes sparkling, "He was so cool just now!"

"Huh?" Sumi Kichikawa asked, puzzled.

"Well... Dr. Kikawa, who's usually so gentle, has such a strong presence when she gets fierce! She wasn't actually fierce, but... she was so convincing!" Nurse Kobayashi gestured excitedly. "That dad was speechless!"

Sumi Kikawa chuckled: "I'm just stating the facts."

"But he's so handsome!" Nurse Kobayashi stuck out her tongue and left with the patient's medical record.

Kikawa Sumi shook his head and continued processing the remaining medical records. But then the image of the little boy's evasive eyes flashed through his mind, and his fingers paused on the keyboard.

"...Home."

He sighed silently.

At 9:30 p.m., Sumi Kichikawa finished his workday. The road he usually took was blocked due to pipeline construction, so he had to take a detour and return to his apartment via a relatively quieter street.

The night breeze was a bit chilly, so he pulled up the collar of his cardigan. As he passed a convenience store, his stomach growled. He then remembered that he hadn't eaten dinner yet.

"...I'll just buy some oden."