Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
At some orphanage in the corner, eight-year-old Kamihara Genichi stood in the courtyard beneath a suffocating night sky, his small face pale as he stared at the building he had grown up in.
It should have felt familiar.
Instead, it felt alien.
The orphanage—normally alive with chatter, footsteps, arguments, laughter—was silent.
Too silent.
Every child. Every adult.
Gone.
An unnatural darkness clung to the buildings like mold. The dormitories looked… distorted. As if something had peeled reality back and stitched it together incorrectly.
Genichi's throat tightened.
He forced himself to breathe.
This life had been simple.
And yet not simple at all.
In his previous life, he had been nothing special—just another ordinary person on Earth. Then illness came early and fast. A terminal diagnosis. A hospital bed. A quiet death before adulthood had even fully begun.
And then—
Consciousness returned.
He had opened his eyes as a child in this island nation. No memory of parents. No family. Just the orphanage. As far back as he could remember, this had been home.
Maybe it was because of reincarnation, but memories of his past life felt like an impossibly vivid dream—clear, detailed… yet separated by a thin membrane between reality and illusion.
Over the years, he had quietly gathered information about this world.
It wasn't the same world.
It looked similar. History overlapped in places. Technology was close.
But it was undeniably different.
A parallel world?
The most undeniable proof—
He had powers.
He called it telekinesis, though the label didn't really matter. Its primary effect wasn't throwing objects around. It strengthened him.
Enhanced him.
Even as a child, he could do things no child should be capable of.
He avoided overusing it. He was still growing. What if abusing it damaged his body? What if the power itself was immature?
No one could teach him.
So he limited himself.
Even so, that faint blue energy—visible only to him—had made him the undisputed leader among the orphanage children. He'd once dismantled a self-proclaimed "king" group in one afternoon. After that, no one challenged him again.
Sometimes, rarely, he could move at a near-instantaneous speed.
In those moments, the world slowed.
Almost stopped.
The first time it happened, he'd been exhilarated for weeks.
And then—
There was the second proof.
This world had ghosts.
Or rather—
Curses.
He'd suspected he wasn't the only one with abilities. Maybe there were others, hidden like in movies or novels.
But monsters?
That hadn't been part of the fantasy.
Over the years, he'd seen them at least five or six times.
They weren't pale women with long black hair like Sadako or Kayako.
They were wrong. Twisted. Misshapen.
Once, a couple had come to adopt a child. Behind them floated something shaped vaguely like an oversized mosquito—palm-like wings, a needle-thin proboscis, grotesquely enlarged proportions.
No one else reacted.
No one else saw it.
Only him.
Did only those with abilities see them?
Now—
Now he had likely encountered something stronger.
The environment itself had changed.
Regret. Fear. Anger.
They surged through him all at once.
"Why now…? Why when I'm still weak? I haven't even grown yet. No. I can't give up. I got a second life. I have power. I'm not dying here."
He drew on the energy inside him.
Blue force pulsed through his small body.
His muscles tightened.
His bones hardened.
Speed. Strength. Durability.
In his current state, he could easily overpower multiple grown men.
In an unknown space like this, survival meant vigilance—total awareness, total effort.
He would find a way out.
"Mm-hm. Got it. Don't forget the promised compensation. This is a confirmed Grade 1—possibly Special Grade—Cursed Womb. I'll contact you if anything comes up. Later, Satoru."
A white-haired beauty stood not far from the orphanage.
Her figure was graceful. Her presence calm.
Before her eyes, dense Cursed Energy twisted like a storm over the building. Ominous. Suffocating.
She showed no fear.
If anything—
Her gaze resembled someone looking at something precious.
"From the darkness, emerge. Blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."
At her chant, a gray-black veil unfurled from a single point in the sky, spreading like rippling water until it enveloped the entire orphanage.
A curtain.
A barrier.
And then she stepped inside.
Vanishing.
"…This is bad."
Genichi stared at the small, twisted corpse dissolving at his feet.
Five minutes ago, he had encountered his first curse.
It was a grotesque fusion of a dog and a young child, wailing as it lunged at him.
He'd panicked at first.
Then he punched it.
Empowered by telekinesis-enhanced strength, his blows landed with shocking effectiveness.
A few strikes.
It died.
The scene had been surreal—an eight-year-old boy beating a malformed creature to death.
The path outside had vanished.
No matter which direction he walked, he ended up back at the orphanage.
Like a labyrinth.
Like being trapped in a ghost wall illusion.
So he'd moved inward instead.
If escape was impossible, maybe destroying the source was the only answer.
More of them appeared.
Different shapes.
Same common trait—
Each carried traces of children in their forms.
Resentment born from children?
That's how horror stories usually worked, right?
They were unsettling, but weaker than he'd feared.
And once you realize you can kill the monster—
It becomes less frightening.
"Uu… uu…"
A faint sob echoed down the staff dormitory hallway.
Genichi froze.
Instinct: another curse.
But no—
This sounded different.
He traced it to a cabinet.
The crying came from inside.
Survivors?
He steadied himself and pulled the door open.
A shriek burst out.
Two small figures huddled together inside—shaking violently.
Not curses.
Children.
"Hey! Stop yelling! You want to attract them?!"
They flinched.
Recognized his voice.
"…Ge—Genichi?"
One boy. One girl.
The boy he vaguely remembered.
The girl—
Kumiko.
She'd almost been adopted recently. A couple had wanted her, but the birthmark on the left side of her face had made them hesitate.
They all knew him, of course.
The orphanage staff were kind, but there were too many children to monitor closely.
After he crushed the troublemakers, his reputation had become unshakable.
As for why he hadn't been adopted?
His choice.
He couldn't imagine forcing himself into another family. Not again.
The director—gentle and warm—had once considered adopting him personally and sending him to proper school. Some children from here had grown up, succeeded, and even returned to help the orphanage.
But that was another story.
He calmed the two children and tried to gather information.
Nothing useful.
They didn't know how they got here either. They'd seen the roaming monsters from afar and hidden in the cabinet.
Suddenly--
Rapid footsteps echoed from down the hall.
Genichi's expression shifted instantly.
"Back inside. Now."
If they hadn't been found before, the cabinet was safer than staying with him.
He could fight.
But protecting two terrified children while fighting?
That was another matter.
They climbed back inside.
He waited until the door closed.
The sound drew closer.
Without hesitation, he ran the opposite direction.
His footsteps rang loudly in the empty corridor.
Behind him
Distorted screeches.
The sound of multiple limbs scraping against the floor.
More than one.
Too many.
The hallway was narrow.
He needed space.
Somewhere open.
Somewhere he could fight.