The elevator was stuffy, filled with a dense, stale mix of cigarette smoke and faint whiffs of blood and decay lingering in the corners.
The combination of odors made Jogo frown in clear disgust. "This is why I hate some humans."
Ding—
The elevator door slid open.
Instantly, a wave of heat surged in alongside the noisy buzz of activity.
Looking ahead, an expansive underground market spread out before him.
All around, vendors sat quietly beside gray cloths laid on the floor. Spread across them were various Cursed Tools and Cursed Objects.
No one shouted. They simply waited, watching.
"Tch." Jogo clicked his tongue.
Even with this eerie silence, he knew these vendors would raise their prices without hesitation.
And frankly, their wares weren't worth considering. Low-grade junk. Nothing he needed.
High-end goods were rarely sold out in the open like this.
People liked to believe they'd stumble across rare treasures on back-alley stalls, but in reality, bargains were rare. There were no fools in the black market.
Jogo tucked in his presence and stepped back from the crowd.
He didn't spare the vendors another glance as he headed deeper into the black market.
His goal wasn't these surface stalls.
While most of what they sold were Cursed Tools, materials, or minor Cursed Objects, there were deeper channels available here.
Places where you could buy anything.
Lives. Secrets. And everything in between in the world of Jujutsu.
That's why Jogo was here today.
But he hadn't walked far before two men appeared in the distance.
"Well, well. Jogo, what brings you here today?" the one in front said with a smile.
Jogo halted and collected his thoughts.
The man wore a featureless white mask, his black hair spreading outward like blades, sharp and exaggerated in every direction. A fur-lined cloak billowed behind him, although there was no wind.
Jogo glanced at him, calm. "Ghost Judge. Gathering intel on visitors is against your own rules."
The man before him was one of the black market's overseers. Jogo didn't know his real name, but around here, everyone called him the Ghost Judge.
He was powerful. When Jogo first entered the black market, the man had seen through his identity as a Cursed Spirit immediately—but hadn't attacked. Instead, he said:
"Maybe everyone here's a bastard. And maybe this place is scum-ridden. But even if you're a Cursed Spirit, as long as you follow the black market's rules, this can still be your sanctuary."
...
"I didn't break the rules." Jogo kept his tone flat, expression unreadable.
"I know. You've always been an interesting one." The Ghost Judge nodded. "But there's a stranger in the black market today. Just thought I'd wish you good luck."
With a lazy wave, he turned and walked off.
"Incomprehensible guy..." Jogo muttered, watching the man's back before walking away.
He made his way to a small alley tucked deep inside the black market, then pulled the brim of his hood lower and stepped in.
Carefully counting the door numbers, he finally stopped in front of one.
A small, worn metal door.
He raised his hand and knocked in a specific rhythm. Knock, knock, knock...
But after a long silence, no one responded.
Very unusual.
"I just contacted him. Told him I had Curse User information..." Jogo frowned. "Where the hell is he?"
After a moment of hesitation, he knocked again, this time using a more urgent coded sequence.
Still nothing.
Jogo sighed softly, scanning his surroundings, brain already working through every possible explanation.
"Maybe I'll come back later..." he muttered, turning to leave.
But just then, he heard footsteps from behind the door.
They were staggered and uneven.
Then came a hoarse, breathless voice. "Who is it?"
It was the familiar voice of the black market's informant. He sounded like he'd just sprinted several blocks.
Jogo responded calmly, "A friend."
Silence.
The door remained shut. His voice vanished into the air as if it had never been heard.
Still no reaction.
Jogo narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't right.
He immediately activated his Cursed Energy and leapt backward.
And just in time.
Bang!
The door was pierced from the inside by a high-speed force that shot past where Jogo had just stood, hitting the wall behind him like a bullet.
A splatter of blood marked the impact.
Jogo's face darkened instantly.
He was certain.
If he'd been even half a second slower, that attack would have torn straight through his chest.
"That was from a Curse User..." he muttered, raising his gaze.
The reinforced iron door was now in shambles.
Then—
BANG!
The door was kicked open.
Heavy boots hit the floor, and a figure stepped out.
A black-haired youth. Expressionless. Cold.
On his right fingertips, blood boiled and bubbled like it was alive.
His slow, deliberate footsteps tightened the air with tension.
Jogo's gaze sharpened.
"Blood Manipulation. From the Kamo clan. One of the Cursed Wombs... So this really is connected to Itadori Kaori."
He had investigated the Kamo clan's "Kamo Kenlun" scandal from a hundred years ago.
The Curse User before him… had unmistakable ties to that incident.
Jogo's expression hardened. "The Nine Phases Diagram... You're no joke."
That incident had caused massive damage to the reputation of the three major clans. The Kamo family had obsessed over recovering the Nine Phases Diagram ever since.
After regaining it, Jujutsu High had kept it sealed under strict supervision.
Until nine years ago, when it was stolen by Itadori Kaori shortly after Satoshi fell into his coma.
Since then, despite an exhaustive joint investigation by Jujutsu High and the Kamo clan, the cursed fetuses had vanished without a trace—along with Kaori.
But the Kamo clan never stopped looking. Their honor depended on it.
And now, one of the Nine Phases Diagram was walking through the Tokyo black market like he owned the place.
Was he bold… or just insane?
Jogo leaned toward the former.
After all, Red Blood Manipulation was a technique on par with the Six Eyes of the Gojo clan.
No wonder the Ghost Judge had warned him.
Choso stared back at Jogo, voice calm and cold. "You dodged. Stronger than expected, Jogo."
Jogo narrowed his eyes. "Attacking someone in the black market isn't exactly wise."
The black market had been infused with special anti-domain protections by the Ghost Judge. Anyone other than him who used a Domain Expansion here would be annihilated on the spot.
So breaking the rules in here was practically suicide.
Choso smiled faintly. "That's why I don't plan on dying. You have two minutes. After that, I'm gone."
(To be continued.)
***
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