I have an unlimited number of shikigami

The entire 26-story building has a high ceiling in the lobby, which is spacious and brightly lit, reminiscent of a huge and elegant Greek temple.

At the service counter on the right-hand side of the entrance, three girls, as if they were doing a toothbrush commercial, neatly displayed impeccable smiles, smiles as clean and tidy as the fresh white shirts on their faces.

Fujiwara Izaya walked to the front of the table and asked the receptionist he found most pleasing to the eye, "Hello, could you tell me which department handles the approval for shrine renovations?"

This is a woman in her early twenties with beautiful curly hair curled outwards.

A small name tag was pinned to her pristine white shirt, which read "Kumiko Okada".

"The Land Management Division is on the sixteenth floor." Kumiko smiled at him, a happy smile. "Director Takeuchi is currently entertaining guests. If you need to see him, I can make an appointment for you."

"Okay, thank you." Fujiwara Izaya smiled politely.

He had a great physique and was very refined. Kumiko was stunned by his sudden smile, tilted her head slightly, and made a cute expression, saying, "Then, please state your identity and purpose so I can register you."

"Fujiwara Izaya".

"Fujiwara-kun, are you a clergyman?"

"Yes, the priest of Asakusa Shrine."

Upon hearing this, Kumiko's smile froze, and her eyes became slightly unfocused.

Like ripples created by throwing a pebble into a calm lake, the smile spread briefly across her face, disappearing in an instant. Once the expression returned to calm, a business-like smile reappeared, but it was slightly less pleasing than before.

Fujiwara Izaya observed this subtle and complex change.

Within the entire Shinto religion, Asakusa Shrine is an anomaly. There's no deep-seated hatred between them, but they're definitely not considered one of their own. This open secret can be gleaned from the changes in the receptionist's expression.

"Well... how should I put this?" Kumiko composed herself and gently touched her glasses with her index finger. "I'm not really in a position to make a decision regarding the Asakusa Shrine..."

She stopped there.

Fujiwara Izaya waited for her to continue, but nothing came of it.

"I'm sorry," Kumiko said, "I need to ask for permission."

“Yes, please do it as soon as possible.” Fujiwara Izaya nodded. “I just need to know who to look for; I don’t need to trouble you with too much.”

“Okay, thank you for your understanding, Fujiwara-kun. I’ll be leaving for a moment. You can wait for me in the lounge area.” With that, Kumiko left the counter and headed towards the elevator. The other two receptionists glanced at Fujiwara Izaya a few times, their expressions unchanged, displaying their professional smiles.

Fujiwara Izaya looked around the lobby.

The brilliant morning light streamed in through the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, making the marble floor shine and feel comfortable.

Abstract paintings with a sense of romance and health hang on the wall, and several large, obviously expensive sofas are neatly arranged, with pleasing green potted plants placed next to them.

There were quite a few people, but the atmosphere was alright.

Fujiwara Izaya sat on the sofa, which was so soft it was almost impossible not to sink into it, and opened a Spanish dictionary.

It was quite easy to read. The vocabulary was fine, and I could recognize most of them. However, the grammar was quite different from that of Portuguese, so I had to memorize it carefully.

At the service desk, two receptionists would occasionally glance in his direction and give him a smile, as if to encourage him.

After a long while, he heard the sound of high heels clicking on the floor and a greeting. Fujiwara Izaya looked up and saw a woman with long hair and wearing a neat uniform.

She had a small Gucci bag slung over her shoulder, and her nails were beautifully painted with light pink nail polish.

She has a lovely, soft oval face that looks kind and approachable.

She has a large chest and long legs.

※※※※※

The lobby was bustling with activity.

Here you'll find fresh air, a sense of time moving forward, and men and women hurrying by with their heads down; the men in white shirts, ties, and briefcases, and the women mostly in high heels.

At one moment, a woman in a business suit walked in through the revolving door, and the entire lobby seemed to fall silent.

She was probably around twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with a slightly round, soft face and incredibly flawless features. Her makeup was just right; her eyebrows were lightly drawn with a beautiful arch, her eyeshadow had a mysterious feel, and her lipstick was a trendy color.

Compared to her elaborate makeup, her clothing was much simpler.

She wore a simple white shirt, revealing her slender shoulders, and a similarly simple black fitted skirt and black knee-high stockings. She wore no accessories whatsoever. A white patent leather bag was slung over her shoulder, and she wore white pointed boat shoes with thin, pointed heels, as fragile as pencil lead.

It's hard for passersby not to notice her.

Her fair and flawless round face is endearing, and her long hair is combed back, revealing a smooth and full forehead, making her look intelligent and clever; her clean and simple attire is radiant, exuding the style of a capable and strong woman.

Kawashima Miki, who was in the center of everyone's attention, remained as calm as the eye of a typhoon.

Her attention was drawn to the boy reading by the window.

The bright spring sunlight streamed through the French windows, making everything around sparkle. The boy, bathed in the light, was enveloped in a gentle warmth, and even the fine hairs on his cheeks seemed to shimmer.

He seemed to be reading a book, or perhaps deep in thought.

The pristine white school uniform shirt, so different from the attire of those around it, rose and fell slowly with each breath, like an unmanned boat floating on the morning sea.

After a brief moment of thought, Kawashima Miki walked towards him.

"Hello."

She quickly sat down next to Fujiwara Izaya, crossed her legs, and reached out her hand to him.

"Uh," Fujiwara Izaya hesitated for a moment, then asked with a barely perceptible smile, "May I ask who you are?"

“Fujiwara-sama, I know you.” Kawashima Miki smiled warmly and extended her hand. “Before we begin our conversation, please allow me to express my admiration for you. You are much more handsome in person than in photos.”

"You're too kind." Fujiwara Izaya shook her hand.

Soft and delicate hands, with a warm and smooth feel.

The handshake was steady, and it seemed to contain some emotion; it wasn't just a perfunctory handshake.

Fujiwara Izaya savored the feel of her hands and thought they were very nice.

This was certainly not lust at first sight; it was mainly because her delicate oval face was his favorite face shape.

“I’m not being polite,” Kawashima Miki complimented, repeatedly examining his hands. “Compared to the photos I saw at the Yin-Yang Bureau, you seem much more charismatic in person, more handsome than any idol. The first time I saw you, it felt like watching an old Toho movie, with a kind of ancient, natural, and intimate feeling.”

A brief observation leads to a conclusion.

These are hands without any calluses, indicating they haven't been used for a long time.

"Um, well," Fujiwara Izaya said politely, looking at her hand that was still holding his, "can you let go now?"

"You haven't, at least not in the last few years, practiced Shinto incantations, have you?" Kawashima Miki asked.

"Huh?" Fujiwara Rin looked at her, puzzled.

"I can tell just by looking at your hands," Kawashima Miki said with a smile. "Your hands don't look like those of a priest who exorcises spirits all day. They look more like those of a painter or musician. They are hands full of artistic flair rather than murderous intent."

"Why do you say that?" Fujiwara Izaya asked curiously.

"Hmm, it's probably because you give me a very good feeling." Kawashima Miki gently patted the back of his hand with her other hand, smiling like a young girl. "You seem to have been born into a wealthy and cultured family and raised in a healthy and attentive manner, am I right?"

“An incredible guess,” Fujiwara Izaya replied.

I neither agreed nor disagreed, but simply left her room for imagination.

Chapter 50. My husband is dead. I hope you can help me in the future.

Kawashima Miki held Fujiwara Izaya's hand for about five minutes before letting go.

She bent over, rummaging through her bag, and asked, "Has Asakusa Shrine been deserted for a long time?"

“Well, no more than thirty in total this year.” Fujiwara Izaya’s gaze fell on her bag.

The pure white GUCCI features a minimalist design.

Clean and stable, but lacking warmth, like a long beach where a light rain is falling.

“Generally speaking,” Kawashima Miki asked, taking out her phone and texting, “people go to shrines to seek something, right?”

“Most of them.” Fujiwara Izaya closed the Spanish dictionary and placed his hands flat on the cover.

"For example, what are you looking for?"

"Everything."

"Specifically?" Kawashima Miki put away her phone and gracefully crossed her legs.

The thin black over-the-knee stockings revealed glimpses of fair, smooth skin beneath. The fine threads that wove the stockings possessed a strange allure, drawing all eyes to them.

“Lost items, luck, future prospects… and so on.” Fujiwara Izaya swallowed.

Watching the movement of his Adam's apple, Kawashima Miki smiled almost imperceptibly.

The two were sitting at opposite ends of a two-seater, half a meter apart. She wore a neat skirt suit, her legs, encased in beautiful over-the-knee stockings, were graceful and alluring, and her black high heels were perfectly coordinated, except that the heels were so sharp they looked like deadly weapons.

The spider demon's toes... Fujiwara Izaya inexplicably associated these strange thoughts with something else.

"The priests must be able to foresee the needs of the worshippers, right?" After saying this, Kawashima Miki's lips were pressed into a straight line, and she stared intently at Fujiwara Izaya, probably hoping that he would agree with her statement.

“I know a little bit about it; it’s all the same old stuff,” Fujiwara Izaya said, pointing to his temple. “Of course, you can’t predict everything. There will always be some rather eccentric worshippers. The ways to deal with them are mostly found in this.”

Kawashima Miki gently scratched the tip of her nose, and a smile immediately bloomed on her face, the process as beautiful as a flower in full bloom.

Her gentle smile, seemingly perfect, carries a hint of suggestion, and her slightly narrowed eyes are captivating.

Infected by his smile, Fujiwara Rin couldn't help but laugh as well.

Because of that purposeful smile, this unfamiliar woman who looked like a strong, independent woman didn't give him the impression of being a strong, independent woman at all. Instead, she seemed more like a well-educated, wealthy housewife who was looking for an affair because her husband was always busy with work.

“Well then,” Kawashima Miki said, gently rubbing her hair with her long, slender fingers, “can Master Fujiwara guess what I need?”

With business coming in, Fujiwara Izaya's attitude became somewhat more proactive.

“First, I need to know what you’ve been going through lately,” he said.

"Hmm, it's a bit difficult to say..." Kawashima Miki gently bit her lower lip, her expression slightly hesitant. "Before I say it, could Master Fujiwara tell me his first impression of me?"

"It's hard to say," Fujiwara Izaya shook his head.

"Anything is fine, say whatever you want." Kawashima Miki shifted her leg and stared at him intently without moving her gaze.

"Well, to sum it up, you give off the vibe of a rich young lady you often see in Moto-Azabu or Chiyoda Ward..." Fujiwara Izaya carefully examined her long legs and her captivating eyes. "You have a beautiful face, a dignified appearance, beautiful long black hair, and a gentle demeanor that makes you feel good."

Kawashima Miki ran her fingers through her hair a few times, looking at him thoughtfully.

"These types of rich girls usually attend expensive private women's universities, mostly majoring in French or German. After graduation, they take a sinecure in their family's company, drawing a high salary without having to work. Every year, they have plenty of time to go shopping in Paris or Hong Kong with friends, attend fashion week in New York, go surfing in Hawaii on a yacht, or ski in the Alps on a private jet. When they reach a certain age, they marry rich men from similar backgrounds, happily quit their jobs to become rich wives, and then devote themselves to how to make their children follow the same path as them."

"Pfft, haha~"