Love Is The Most Twisted Curse | Suguru Geto

Chapter 43: Double Suicide

She has never been a virtuous woman. Not entirely. Perhaps not at all. There has always been a part of her that rebels against the labels imposed upon her, a quiet, persistent yearning to uncover the truth of who she is beneath them. But the answer eludes her. She thought she had grasped it once—when she was with him. When his voice filled the empty spaces of her mind, when his presence dulled the sharp edges of her own self-loathing. He soothed her in ways no one else could, yet he held the same power to undo her, to fracture her into irreparable pieces.

"Let’s make a deal, shall we?"

The voice slithers into her consciousness like an unwelcome guest. And just like that, he is there again—lodged between the folds of her thoughts, refusing to let her be. It is insufferable. It is unbearable. It is inevitable. She cannot stop thinking about him, that insufferable man with long hair and an even longer shadow that lingers over her. God forbid. The truth is shamefully apparent. She longs for him. Desperately.

Since that night at the museum, they swore to sever the thread that tethered them together, but Sayuri regrets yielding to that decision with every breath she takes. She misses him. She needs him. In her sheets. Beneath her skin. Inside her. She needs a distraction—anything to drown out the storm surging inside her. Her fingers twitch against her chin, her nails pressing against the curve of her jaw as her gaze drifts to the window. The vehicle glides past streets she does not recognize, unfamiliar buildings standing like silent witnesses to her unrest.

"The slums," Akane remarks from the driver’s seat.

Nanami nods, his eyes catching on a group of children playing outside. Their laughter rings out despite their torn clothes, their joy defying the decay around them. Against their better judgment, he and Sayuri find themselves smiling back.

"No wonder the curses are thick here. This place is drowning in sorrow." Sayuri’s voice is quiet as she watches the city blur past her.

"Neglect breeds misery. Misery breeds curses. A simple equation." Nanami affirms, his tone heavy with quiet discontent.

"The higher-ups kept this buried for years. Not a single sorcerer knew. It was only because of Principal Yaga’s persistence that they finally acknowledged it. But how many lives have already been lost because of their negligence? God." Akane’s hands tighten around the wheel, the strain in her knuckles mirroring the fury in her voice.

"They are overstepping. Again. If this continues, we should kill them." Sayuri says it with the ease of someone discussing the weather.

"Steady yourself." Nanami’s voice is measured, but there is a quiet warning beneath it. "Don’t lose sight of why we’re here. We’re already behind schedule because of you." The last part is pointed, directed at Sayuri.

She groans, dragging a hand through her hair. "Come on, Nanami. I already apologized. You know Satoru sent me to retrieve the kid."

"The special grade, right?" Akane asks without taking her eyes off the road.

"Yeah. His cursed energy is immense. Maybe even greater than Satoru’s. The higher-ups are fixated on the vengeful spirit inside him. His death sentence remains, but as long as we stand, it won’t happen. We won’t allow it."

Nanami exhales sharply, something dark and unspoken passing over his face. "No more deaths. We won’t let history repeat itself."

A beat of silence stretches between them.

"Who died in the past?" Akane’s voice is cautious, a thread of confusion laced within it.

Sayuri’s breath stills. She meets Nanami’s gaze, and in that instant, they both remember—Akane doesn’t. Her memories have been wiped clean. She cannot recall. She cannot know.