#curse.

"I heard a rumor," Suguru mocked in a whispered tone, exaggerating by cupping his hand over his mouth as if it were a secret that needed to be discreetly told, "that the Koyama family had to adopt a child." His expression softened into one of tender affection as his gaze shifted towards Mimiko's slumbering body. “It’s good. Koyama Chiyori is one of the lucky ones. The adoption rate in Japan is heinous…”

He refrained from acknowledging the contempt he harbored towards Chiyori for being raised by an ordinary family. “I may not be intimately acquainted with her, but I can hazard a guess as to which curse I would use…”

With a solemn gesture, he pressed a single finger against his lips, commanding silence. In the dim light, a chilling sight unfolded: a translucent dome emerged from the earth, encapsulating a writhing mass within—a stomach, suspended unnaturally, as if plucked from the depths. Intermittently, slender slits would rupture across the stomach's surface, disgorging a relentless deluge of calcified minnows. These spectral fish would writhe briefly in the air. Their hollow eyes fixed at the bowl's opening, before plummeting back against the glass with muted thumps. Attentive listeners might discern faint gasps, a hint of a final lullaby, struggling to find release.

“This story lacks a grand narrative, devoid even of a beginning to its tale. After all, what is the point of a child that doesn’t even grow? I guess… nothing but a harbinger for a mother's grief.”

“Ah, my cherished kouhai," he practically purred, his shoulder casually pressing against the wall. "Though I may not keep as close to my underclassmen as I once did, I know precisely who he ought to meet."

Reality shattered like glass, each shard leaving a jagged gash in the fabric of existence. A headless corpse appeared from the splintered pandemonium, limping forward with an alarming lack of balance. The air thickened with the terrible stink of decay, seeping from its ragged black suit, which emitted the foul scent of alcohol and vomit. Its fingers, worn down to the bone, displayed the marks of constant toil. The strings of it’s own heart encircled its wrists and arms, trapping the curse. Its pallid skin had turned a sickening green.

When it fully emerged, the cursed body convulsed into a twisted imitation of a bow, as though Suguru held some perverse authority over it. "Kaorishi, a victim of overwork, I stumbled upon this curse, ensnaring it's own superior. With its mangled hands, it would compel others to endure the burden of one more spreadsheet, one more email, one more false smile, suffocating them under the weight of it's relentless devotion," a laugh, raw and cold. "It’s favorite victim didn't even get to see his daughter before he had a heart attack at his desk."

A light shrug.

“The firm scraped him up and kept going, though.”