Several days passed, and the woman-shaped spirit never reappeared.
Dòu Táng, though still cautious, gradually allowed himself to relax. He kept the house protected and returned home immediately after school every day—without fail.
Uuugh… I can't make a single friend at school…
That was how others saw Kiryu Dòu Táng lately.
Tall, quiet, detached—the picture of mystery.
To his classmates, he looked like a transfer student burdened by some tragic past. Yeah, right.
In reality: For heaven's sake, could you hormone-soaked morons please stay the hell away from me?!
That was his true inner monologue.
As everyone knows, adolescence is a time of restless hunger—the urge to feel something extraordinary, to prove you exist.
Add hormones, insecurity, and melodrama, and you get a recipe for chaos: years that are stupid, painful, yet somehow beautiful once they're gone.
Only once they're gone.
Because if you were already an adult and someone threw you back into that world—how would you feel?
Some might see it as a second chance: to shine, to rewrite youth.
Others might treat it as an opportunity to fix regrets, make better choices. But Dòu Táng?
Dòu Táng was… different.
His thoughts each day ran along one track:
"Will I run into another vengeful spirit today?"
"How many more can I exorcise before the weekend?" "I wonder how Huaiyin and Lu Zizhen are doing."
He simply didn't belong here. And honestly, that was fine.
Japanese school life, he had learned, was its own ecosystem.
The relentless pursuit of group harmony—the way teens formed cliques at light speed—made it nearly impossible for an outsider to fit in.
Unless, of course, you had charisma overflowing from every pore.
As every light-novel reader knows, a transfer-student protagonist usually conquers their new class by either toppling the hierarchy or dazzling everyone with brilliance.
Dòu Táng? Too boring. No interest.
No showing off, no drama.
He simply existed—attending class, vanishing at lunch, moving like a polite ghost. Naturally, rumors sprouted.
Some said he was Kume Chinatsu's private bodyguard.
Others whispered that the two had been seen together on the rooftop—and that Kume Chinatsu came down later, limping slightly.
The fanfic basically wrote itself.
More imaginative classmates claimed the Kiryu family were yakuza, and that Dòu Táng had "the quiet menace of someone who's seen blood."
With his calm exterior and faintly dangerous aura, the rumor almost sounded plausible.
In short: no one dared to provoke him— but no one dared to approach him either.
Except for one brave soul.
Kume Chinatsu.
It was lunchtime.
As chatter filled the corridors, Kume sneaked up like a conspirator and slipped into the seat across from him.
He was just about to stand when she caught his sleeve.
"Kiryu-kun… there's something I want to talk about. Do you have a minute?"
Tomorrow was Saturday, and they'd already planned to meet Sunday—but she couldn't help herself.
She felt like Dòu Táng was deliberately keeping his distance. He never replied to her SNS messages—or if he did, his answers were curt and unreadable.
Her instincts as a "big-sister type" kicked in.
She convinced herself this tall, stoic boy was simply shy—or maybe wounded, afraid to open up.
Dòu Táng glanced around.
Dozens of eyes flicked toward them before snapping away again. Kume's boldness had drawn attention.
If he said yes, the rumor mill would explode. But then again…
I don't care.
"Sure," he said calmly. "Let's go." "Y-yes!"
Kume's face lit up as she grabbed her lunchbox—
…actually, three stacked lunchboxes?
He eyed them warily.
Please don't tell me this is one of those "let's share lunch together" setups. No way it's that cliché… right?
Turned out, he was overthinking.
On the rooftop, Dòu Táng leaned against the wall, sipping juice through a straw while watching Kume Chinatsu eat.
Three bento tiers lay open in front of her, each packed with color and care.
She was chewing nonstop, like a hamster that hadn't eaten in days—stuffing, swallowing, repeating.
All three boxes were hers alone.
When she finally finished, she exhaled happily, then looked up. "Kiryu-kun, aren't you eating?"
"Watching you eat made me full," he said truthfully.
Kume Chinatsu's face went crimson.
"N-no! I don't always eat that much! It's just—yesterday's dance practice was really intense!"
Dòu Táng nodded, dead serious.
"I understand. Being an idol must be exhausting. I wasn't teasing you, don't worry."
His sincerity hit her like a punch.
She blinked, realizing what kind of person she was dealing with.
This guy… he's not like anyone I've met. He's way too blunt!
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks pink. "So, um… about what I wanted to say."
"Oh—right." He set his juice aside, expression unreadable. "What's it about?" Kume hesitated, lowering her voice.
"Kiryu-kun, about Tang Dou Ren—the one you mentioned before… there's actually something
else."
"I know a miko—a shrine maiden. She said she knows something about Tang Dou Ren. But… I'm not sure if I should tell you."
Dòu Táng blinked. A miko?
Oh, right—that girl from the other night. Sportswear, self-righteous attitude.
That counts as a shrine maiden?
Then again, Lu Zizhen doesn't exactly look like a Taoist either.
"…Can you tell me more?" he asked, genuine curiosity in his tone. "I'm interested."
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