I have an unlimited number of shikigami

Kawashima Miki's shoulders trembled with laughter.

“You’re such a funny little boy,” she said, covering her lips.

“No, no,” Fujiwara Izaya quickly shook his head, “I’m just an ordinary little boy. If you don’t believe me, you can ask the crow perched on the trash can first thing tomorrow morning.”

How should I ask?

“Go ask it, ‘Is Fujiwara Izaya an ordinary person?’ and it will answer you without hesitation with a ‘quack.’”

"But don't crows just caw?"

“That’s right, crows only caw.” Fujiwara Izaya said with a serious expression, as if he were stating a well-known phenomenon. “Just like Fujiwara Izaya is just an extremely ordinary little boy, that’s one of the only two truths in the world.”

"Weirdo!" Kawashima Miki winked playfully.

"It's not strange at all, she's just good at talking nonsense." Fujiwara Izaya shrugged lightly. "Alright, miss, it's time to explain why you're here."

“Call me Mrs. Kawashima,” Kawashima Miki corrected him.

Fujiwara Izaya asked in surprise, "You're married?"

“It’s been many years,” Kawashima Miki said. “At least ten years.”

"Too young, I couldn't tell," Fujiwara Izaya remarked. "But it seems my wild guess was right; you really are a wealthy lady."

Kawashima Miki asked curiously, "What are the characteristics of a wealthy woman in your eyes?"

She wasn't really trying to test Fujiwara Izaya; she simply found the way the little boy spoke amusing and made her feel relaxed, so she couldn't help but continue chatting about trivial things.

“A rich lady, huh? Very vulgar,” Fujiwara Izaya replied.

“Vulgar?” Kawashima Miki looked at him with an incredulous expression, as if to say, “What is this guy talking about?” But after a while, she nodded gently. “Go on, don’t worry about me getting angry. Neither of us needs to mind this level of discussion.”

"Wearing expensive fur coats and carrying designer bags, they appear glamorous on the surface, but they do all sorts of despicable things. For example, they like to blindfold men, tie them to chairs, and whip them." Fujiwara Izaya leaned back on the sofa, stretched out his legs, and chatted with her, making up all sorts of nonsense. "Of course, it's not just about wives. In this highly developed capitalist society, rich people do all sorts of despicable things, regardless of gender."

“I can be quite lewd, haha…” Kawashima Miki smiled with her delicately shaped lips forming a beautiful curve, gently rubbing the bridge of her nose with her finger. “For example, chatting so happily with a little boy behind my husband’s back, and even wanting to have dinner with him and dance together at a mansion ball.”

Her nails were coated with clear nail polish, smooth and shiny like exquisite works of art.

“It’s alright,” Fujiwara Rin smiled nonchalantly. “If there’s a misunderstanding, I can explain it to him myself.”

Are you sure you want to explain this to him?

Kawashima Miki tilted her head slightly, her gaze passing over Fujiwara Izaya and looking into the space behind him.

“I’m very good at explaining things to others,” Fujiwara Izaya replied confidently.

Kawashima Miki pursed her lips and fell silent.

Her gaze remained fixed on a certain space behind Fujiwara Izaya, not necessarily looking at anything in particular, perhaps simply lost in thought. Fujiwara Izaya noticed that she seemed somewhat tired, the air from the air conditioner vent ruffling her white lace collar—a posture that could be seen as a beautifully evocative painting.

"Is something on your mind?" he asked.

“A little,” Kawashima Miki replied in a dry voice.

“You look a little tired,” Fujiwara Izaya said.

"Yes." Kawashima Miki rubbed her eyes, looking troubled. "Doesn't she look older when she's tired?"

“Not at all,” Fujiwara Izaya said truthfully, “She looks no more than 25, and she’s still so beautiful.”

Kawashima Miki smiled and said, "You're not that old, but you know how to please women."

“To be honest, I rarely compliment people like that,” Fujiwara Izaya replied.

At that moment, Kumiko walked out of the elevator and nodded at him from a distance.

"I'll take my leave now," Fujiwara Izaya said to the unfamiliar woman in front of him, and got up to walk over.

"Wait a minute, I haven't finished." Kawashima Miki reached out to pull him.

Fujiwara Izaya turned around and looked over.

Kawashima Miki held his hand, and a hint of sadness suddenly appeared on her slightly upturned, delicate face.

“I need your help with something,” she said.

Such a young and beautiful woman, yet she put on a mournful expression like a lonely, unfulfilled woman confined to her chambers. Fujiwara Izaya instantly connected this to a certain kind of demand.

Gazing at his handsome face, Kawashima Miki's chest heaved. After taking a few deep breaths, as if she had made up her mind, she slowly opened her sexy and luscious red lips.

"My husband has died. I hope you can help me in the future."

"?"

Mrs--

Are you serious?!

Chapter 51. Excellent hunters often disguise themselves as prey.

Ask questions.

What kind of help does a young and beautiful widow need?

Fujiwara Rin had no experience in this area either.

So he could only shut up and quietly look at the woman in front of him, whose name he didn't even know.

Kawashima Miki bit her lower lip and didn't say anything more.

Her eyes darted back and forth as she looked at Fujiwara Izaya with an expression that suggested she had something difficult to say. Her feigned embarrassment and shyness gave the impression that she was at a loss for words.

"Fujiwara-kun~~"

Kumiko walked over from the elevator, her smile kind and friendly.

Compared to before, her friendliness had visibly increased. Perhaps when she was consulting her superior earlier, she had already put aside her worries about how to deal with Fujiwara Izaya, and now she could simply relax and treat him as an attractive man.

"How is the situation?" Fujiwara Izaya smiled back at her.

“Director Takeuchi said he can see you in an hour,” Kumiko touched her glasses frame lightly with her finger, smiling impeccably. “If Fujiwara-kun is bored, you can wait on the sixteenth floor. There’s a reception room there, and there are free iced drinks and snacks.”

"Thank you." Fujiwara Izaya smiled and said, "You look great in glasses."

"Huh?" Kumiko looked up in confusion.

“So cute,” Fujiwara Izaya said.

"Uh... thank you, thank you, please don't be so loud." As she spoke, Kumiko glanced sideways at the service counter. "There are rules here that prohibit saying things like that during work hours."

"Okay, I'm going up to the sixteenth floor now. Goodbye."

Fujiwara Izaya waved his hand and walked towards the elevator.

"Wait for me..." Kawashima Miki, in her delicate high heels, followed him to the elevator. As soon as they stepped inside, the elevator doors closed impatiently behind them, ascending to the sixteenth floor.

In the elevator, Fujiwara Izaya leaned against the wall and looked at her: "I have something to do right now, why are you following me?"

"Ahem..." Kawashima Miki tightened the two corners of her white shirt with her fingertips, cleared her throat, "Isn't there still an hour left? I'd like to continue our conversation in the lounge."

"What do you need my help with?" Fujiwara Izaya asked.

“I think,” Kawashima Miki said, crossing her arms as if afraid of something, glancing cautiously around the elevator before lowering her voice, “I’ve been feeling very scared these past few nights. I keep feeling like there’s someone in my room, like my husband’s ghost.”

Fujiwara Izaya showed an interested expression: "I'm a professional in this area."

"I hope you can help me." Kawashima Miki clasped her hands together and bowed slightly.

"Boom~"

A strange sound rang out.

Fujiwara Izaya looked down at her chest.

A touch of black lace came into view.

The design features a black background with red lines and intricate embroidery along the edges, likely depicting a floral pattern. This symmetrical decoration is present on both sides, creating a remarkably balanced overall effect.

Moreover, the middle groove is decorated with a small ribbon horizontally.

This ribbon greatly enhances the overall aesthetic, giving the impression that once the thread is untied, one can enter her heart.

"..."

Kawashima Miki realized something, and her expression instantly froze.

"Don't look!" she snapped, her face flushed. She hurriedly clutched her bag to her chest, took a few steps back, and retreated into a corner of the elevator, watching Fujiwara Izaya warily. "You, close your eyes."

Fujiwara Izaya's expression remained unchanged.

He was still reminiscing about the visual feast he had just experienced.

To be honest, you can't see much at all. The bra covers a large area and the material is quite thick. It's just that the pure black color makes it more visually apparent against her delicate, fair skin.

Kawashima Miki's stiff face was facing him.

Staring.

Gazing silently.

There was a questioning look in his eyes.

Fujiwara Izaya chose not to reply to the message.

Anyway, he didn't look at it on purpose; it was just a coincidence. There's no need to feel guilty or explain.

The elevator then reached the sixteenth floor. The doors opened, and Fujiwara Izaya stepped out first with steady steps.

The long corridor was lit even during the day. The floor was polished marble, gleaming to a mirror shine, and the walls were bathed in a yellowish-white light, like the buttery shortbread you eat every morning. Sturdy, heavy wooden doors lined both sides of the corridor, each bearing an iron plaque indicating its room type.

Fujiwara Izaya looked at the door number and searched ahead, looking for his destination.

After walking for a short while, he heard the "tap-tap" sound of high heels clicking in the empty corridor behind him. He turned around and saw Kawashima Miki running up with small, quick steps, her two beautiful legs wrapped in black stockings clearly reflected on the marble floor.

The button that had been snapped off on the bulging shirt at the chest had been repaired.

"I didn't expect you to carry a needle and thread with you," Fujiwara Rinya said curiously, staring at the buttons on her chest. He subconsciously exclaimed, "They're mended quite neatly. You're quite skilled."

Kawashima Miki felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze.

The button was hastily sewn on with spider silk, for fear that he might notice something, so I quickened my pace and ran ahead.

Fujiwara Izaya followed behind her, walking in the empty marble corridor.

Maintaining a distance of half a meter, observing the stranger's body from behind, one can see that her figure is extremely alluring.