Chapter 21: Ominous Signs

After getting ready, the two headed out.
Ren seemed perfectly normal.
Doroshi had expected at least a hint of embarrassment from her, but nothing.
Last time, hadn’t Ren blushed when she got handsy?

She couldn’t grasp it—Ren’s mindset was utterly alien.
A demon god, even compressed to her smallest size measured in kilometers, didn’t have a shred of human shame.
That blush last time? Probably just from being seen as an unrefined maid by someone she cared about.

They were up early today, with plenty of time, so Doroshi opted to walk to school.
“By the way, Little Ren, didn’t you say your clothes are made from your true body’s flesh? But just now…”

Ren, holding her bag with both hands, met Doroshi’s gaze calmly.
“I fixed them to exist independently, so there’s no flaw.”

“If that’s the case, isn’t it the same as buying clothes?”
Doroshi’s eyes lit up.
“Oh! Tomorrow’s the weekend. Let’s hit the mall and pick out some clothes for you. A cute teenage girl needs her own wardrobe!”

Ren was the perfect clothes hanger—Doroshi could make her try on outfits she’d never dare wear herself.
She kept that thought to herself.

“As you wish, Lady Doroshi.”
Ren, ever obedient to Doroshi’s whims, had no objections.

“It’s settled then!”
Excited at the prospect of shopping with Ren—her first real outing with a friend her age—Doroshi beamed.

As they walked, she suddenly pointed to a side street.
“Hey, what’s going on over there?”

A crowd gathered at the base of an ordinary apartment building, surrounded by police cars with flashing lights.
Officers had set up yellow caution tape, and onlookers buzzed noisily outside it.

Ren, with her demon god senses, had noticed earlier but ignored it, caring only for Doroshi.
“It seems an incident occurred. Would you like to take a look, Lady Doroshi?”
She frowned slightly, catching a whiff of blood from a room in the building.

“Let’s go!”
Since Ren entered her life, Doroshi had grown oddly curious about things that disrupted her “peaceful daily life.”

Despite sensing trouble, Ren followed Doroshi to the caution tape.
Officers stood impassively, their presence deterring the crowd from crossing the line.

With a thrill-seeker’s mindset, Doroshi squeezed into the crowd and asked a nearby middle-aged woman what happened.
The woman turned, her face pale with horror.
“Someone died in there—a young girl living alone. They say it was gruesome. Poor thing.”

“Died?”
Doroshi froze, realizing that an incident requiring police tape must be serious.

Something big had happened.
Died, as in dead?

Ren stood behind her, unfazed, her presence causing people to instinctively give her space, forming a small empty circle around her.

Maybe it was her age, but another nosy onlooker, a middle-aged man, leaned in, his creepy tone making Doroshi uneasy.
“I live on the fourth floor. That girl was right below me.”
“I saw it—her neck was torn out, like some animal got her. Still gives me chills.”

Doroshi regretted coming over.
Despite her loner vibe and tough exterior, she was still a teenage girl—stuff like this scared her.

“L-Little Ren, let’s go. Class is starting soon,” she said, grasping Ren’s arm for comfort, her excuse flimsy.

“Mm, mm.”
Overwhelmed with joy from the sudden closeness, Ren let Doroshi lead her away.

Despite the detour, they reached school on time.
The classroom’s atmosphere was still strange.
Doroshi, ignoring the online community, was unaware of the latest gossip.

During a break, a few familiar girls gathered at the back of the room, chatting.
Doroshi, slumped over her desk as usual, caught their conversation.

“Takapan didn’t come today either. Another sick day?”
“No idea. I called, but she didn’t pick up. Think something’s up?”

Their voices carried, and Doroshi overheard clearly.
Takapan—the trendy girl she and Ren had mentioned yesterday, always dressed flashily, a noticeable figure.
Doroshi didn’t particularly like her.
Over the past year, Takapan had badmouthed her behind her back, and Doroshi knew it.

‘Hmph, a gossip like her getting taken out wouldn’t be surprising.’
With a touch of malice, Doroshi smirked at the thought.

Soon, the break ended, and the homeroom teacher, Taki, walked in, his face grim and distracted, worrying the students.
Taki, a bespectacled young man fresh out of college, was mild-mannered and approachable, a likable pushover.
Students loved him, but he lacked authority.

He tossed his notes onto the desk, scanned the class, and hesitated, as if choosing his words.
“Taki-sensei, what’s up? Don’t tell me you’re canceling the holidays!” a student joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Taki shook his head silently, hands pressing onto the desk.
After a pause, he spoke.
“Takapan-san’s family had some issues, so she’s transferring.”

The sudden news stirred the class, especially Takapan’s friend group, who stared at Taki in shock.
Doroshi’s heart raced.
Taki’s demeanor felt off.
Had something really happened to Takapan?

‘Did I jinx her with that curse in my head…?’

After the announcement, Taki spread his notes on the desk and began the lesson.
But for the entire class, both the teacher and students seemed distracted, lost in a haze.