I have an unlimited number of shikigami

After getting up, Fujiwara Izaya went to the shrine construction site with an umbrella.

Throughout the journey, he kept thinking about one problem: with the end of the month approaching, the deadline for the mission was fast approaching. He couldn't just sit and wait for Kawashima Miki's next move; he had to come up with a way to take the initiative.

Ah!

Decided!

I'll go knock on the widow's door tonight.

Back at Asakusa Shrine, just as I passed through the torii gate, I saw Kitahara Takaki walking towards me, looking quite anxious.

"Good morning, Mr. Kitahara," Fujiwara Ryaya greeted him with a smile. "Is there anything urgent?"

"Ah, hello Master." Kitahara Takaki stopped and said helplessly, "The Black Spider Group has a new leader who took office today. He just sent me a message asking me to come and attend their gathering."

"Black Spider?" Fujiwara Izaya's mind raced.

“Yeah, the biggest yakuza organization in Taitung District.” Kitahara Takaki sighed, quite indignantly. “You know, those of us in real estate deal with yakuza to some extent. Today is their new boss’s inauguration, and I have to go congratulate him, otherwise things might get sour.”

"Was their former leader surnamed Araki?" Fujiwara Izaya asked.

"Yes, how did you know, little monk?" Kitahara Takaki asked curiously.

“I also know that his wife is the Empress.” Fujiwara Izaya laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Take me with you. Let’s go meet this new boss.”

Kitahara Takaki shuddered inexplicably.

For some reason, he felt that the master's smile was a little bit perverted.

Riding in Kitahara Takaki's car, we arrived at a secluded neighborhood in Yoshiwara, at a spacious, antique-style mansion. Numerous bodyguards in black stood guard at the gate, and every now and then, well-dressed guests emerged from their cars and entered.

As soon as he arrived at the entrance, before even entering, Fujiwara Rinya had already become the focus of the entire venue.

Chapter 81. Another day of bullying Kawashima Miki.

The old-fashioned mansion is surrounded by high walls, like an ancient general's castle.

Stepping out of the car, Fujiwara Izaya strolled leisurely towards the gate, exuding confidence as if he were the master of the place, about to return home to preside over a festival. Beside him stood Kitahara Takaki, who appeared to be his secretary.

A woman's soft call could be faintly heard coming from the doorway.

A white shirt, navy blue sweatpants, and white tennis shoes.

His simple and neat clothes, when worn by him, exude a special kind of elegance, attracting the attention of many women.

Upon entering, Kitahara Takaki announced his identity and led Fujiwara Izaya directly inside without anyone stopping him. Walking along the corridor, they passed numerous tall men in sunglasses and black suits, as well as many women in kimonos.

Fujiwara Izaya walked along the veranda, his expression casual and relaxed.

The angle at which his knees were always raised remained consistent, the distance of each step was always equal, his head held high and chest out, his posture, though not deliberately upright, resembled that of a pine tree, displaying meticulousness. His clothes were always ordinary, yet extremely clean, and even on rainy days, his shoes were spotless, showing great attention to detail.

"This is the headquarters of the Black Spider Group."

Kitahara Takaki explained to Fujiwara Izaya as they walked.

Fujiwara Izaya's gaze was also secretly taking in this ridiculously large house.

In some quaint Japanese architectural complexes, small courtyards are enclosed by wooden fences, where one or two modern houses can be seen mixed in, with floor-to-ceiling glass doors and windows or exterior walls covered with beautiful tiles, creating a very pleasant environment.

However, what's interesting is that the roads here are designed to be as winding as possible. Towering ancient trees are almost everywhere, and the lush greenery covers almost half the sky above the house, making it feel cold and damp.

In addition, Fujiwara Rinya also noticed some small details.

Although on the surface it was just an ordinary mansion, his excellent eyesight always allowed him to pinpoint the numerous hidden surveillance cameras. In those winding corners, there were always concealed features on the walls, seemingly hiding automatic or semi-automatic firearms.

And those tall tree canopies were probably also a hiding place for the defensive forces.

Once these things are in operation, the entire house will immediately become a heavily fortified fortress, where even a mosquito flying in would be instantly crushed into pieces.

Could a gang really have that much power...? Fujiwara Izaya pondered a certain possibility, following Kitahara Takaki to a spacious Japanese-style room set up like a Buddhist temple.

It looks like a ritual is being performed, but it hasn't started yet because not all the guests have arrived. Several monks are checking the wooden fish in their hands. You can smell Kawashima Miki's scent, but you can't see where she is.

Having probably considered a certain possibility, Fujiwara Izaya looked at the portrait of the bald man displayed in the Buddhist hall and smiled somewhat coldly.

"I forgot to tell the master that today is also the day the Black Spider Group holds a religious ceremony for their former leader," Kitahara Takaki added quietly.

"I understand, you don't need to worry about me."

Fujiwara Izaya said something to him, then turned and left, following the familiar scent of roses that wafted past his nose.

In the rain, birds chirped and twittered in the old house, and morning glories climbed the walls. The flowers were a common blue, the vines were slender, and the flowers and leaves were small.

The green leaves and blue flowers hang down, giving a refreshing feeling.

The fragrance of roses grew stronger and stronger. Fujiwara Izaya turned around, stepped through a door, and found the source of the fragrance.

Outside the eaves stood a large oleander tree, its white flowers blooming in the rain. Amidst the misty rain, a young widow, dressed in black mourning clothes and with an elegant demeanor, leaned out to pick the flowers.

Fujiwara Izaya tiptoed over, the patter of rain masking his movements.

In the damp weather, with dripping eaves, the white flowers seemed especially cool, their clusters swaying gently around Kawashima Miki's figure. She intently picked the words and placed them into the black ceramic jar in her hand, a scene as beautiful as an ancient nobleman's ukiyo-e print.

The sound of footsteps reached Kawashima Miki's ears only after Fujiwara Izaya had walked a little behind him.

She turned around.

In an instant, his expression changed drastically.

The feeling was so complex that Kawashima Miki couldn't speak. A tingling, chilling sensation surged from her tailbone and quickly spread throughout her body. For a long time afterward, she couldn't process or understand the feeling. At that moment, feeling as if her heart had stopped, only one thought echoed in her mind—escape, escape!

“Madam,” Fujiwara Rinya said with a less-than-noble smile, “what a coincidence.”

A fog rolled in, shrouding the courtyard in a white mist, obscuring the white blossoms of the oleanders. A young man walked against the wind, his face handsome and refined, his voice hoarse yet captivating, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous malice.

Kawashima Miki instantly forgot to breathe.

His head buzzed, and he instinctively hugged the black pottery jar to his chest, shouting, "Don't come any closer!"

"What is this for?" Fujiwara Izaya took the black ceramic jar from her hand.

"Give it back to me!" Kawashima Miki shouted, trying to snatch it away like a piece of driftwood for someone drowning.

Fujiwara Izaya hid the pottery jar behind his back.

In that instant, Kawashima Miki lost her balance, and her left hand suddenly pressed down on his chest.

She then reached out her right hand, trying to reach Fujiwara Izaya's hand behind his back, so she twisted her body to the right as much as possible, burying her face directly in Fujiwara Izaya's arms.

She was only touched lightly before she quickly turned her face away.

Fujiwara Izaya watched as the woman's body swayed and pressed against him, seemingly carrying an indescribable, captivating charm. It was as if this charm was a woman's innate, mysterious power. The brief contact was like a gentle, fragrant breeze passing by.

"Oh dear, give it back to me." Kawashima Miki took a step back, leaned against a pillar, and looked at him with a pale face.

Rain drifted in through the window, wetting her neck; the water droplets clinging to the fine downy hair seemed to be just the sweat that had broken out.

"It has a faint fragrance."

Fujiwara Izaya lowered his head and smelled the flowers in the black ceramic jar.

Snow-white petals, emerald green leaves, a delicate fragrance, and the warm feel of the earthenware pot.

Kawashima Miki looked at him coldly, biting her lower lip and remaining silent.

Only those stern, beautiful eyes that stared straight at him conveyed anger.

“This fragrance is too faint and doesn’t match your flamboyant beauty.” Fujiwara Rinya threw the black ceramic jar into the yard and said as he walked toward her, “The scent of roses suits you better. I’ll send you a bouquet every day from now on.”

The moment the words fell.

"Snapped--"

The earthenware pot was broken, and the white flowers lay on the dark mud, delicate and pitiful.

Kawashima Miki didn't turn around, but continued to stare at Fujiwara Izaya.

Those were fireworks for decorating the Buddhist shrine in front, which she planned to deliver later. But at a time like this, she was barely able to protect herself, so how could she possibly have time to hold a proper Buddhist ceremony for that bald spider?

Fujiwara Izaya wasn't afraid of her reaction. He reached out and pulled her into his arms, then turned around and sat on the railing himself.

"Oops~"

Kawashima Miki exclaimed in surprise.

“Be good and don’t scream,” Fujiwara Izaya threatened her, “unless you want everyone to know.”

As he spoke, he spread her legs apart with one hand and pressed down hard on her waist with the other, forcibly positioning her as if she were straddling his lap with her legs spread apart.

"..."

Face to face.

Kawashima Miki glared at him, panting heavily as if she were truly enraged.

But after struggling a few times, she sensed something was wrong. Looking down, she gasped in horror. Anticipating something terrible, she crossed one arm to protect her chest and covered her flushed face with the other, shouting, "...No! There's no room for negotiation!"

Above the High Heavens

"What do you mean there's no room for negotiation?" Fujiwara Izaya looked at her with a smile.

"No means no!" Kawashima covered his face, trembled, and said stiffly, "I'm warning you, don't lay a hand on me here, or I'll take you down with me right now."

"Does that mean it'll be fine somewhere else?" Fujiwara Izaya seized on the loophole in her words again.

"..."

Kawashima Miki's chest heaved with anger as she glared at him, furious. "Are you dreaming? Not here, not anywhere else!" As soon as she finished speaking, she trembled and suddenly covered her mouth, her expression filled with rage.

"Go on," Fujiwara Izaya released her hand and instead put his arm around her waist. "After you're done cursing, it'll be my turn to curse."

"You..." Kawashima Miki truly hadn't expected him to be so shameless. She struggled in his arms a few times, but couldn't break free. After a series of rapid changes in her expression, a long sigh escaped her throat: "What do you want me to do?"

"Aren't we dating?" Fujiwara Izaya inhaled the scent of roses emanating from her, his arms wrapped around her slender waist. "As my girlfriend, you don't answer my calls, you don't reply to my messages, and when I went to find you, you even had security kick me out. Tell me, how should I punish you?"

"..."

Kawashima Miki took a deep breath, her brows furrowing with undisguised frustration.

I'm so stupid.

I was only thinking about keeping him here, but I never imagined I'd get myself involved... Waaah, I really want to cry—

“Speak!” Fujiwara Izaya looked at her threateningly.

"...Don't be so mean!" Kawashima Miki pouted, her almond-shaped eyes silently welling up with tears that suddenly streamed down her face.