The story begins with an eight-foot-tall lady surrounded by ghost story ladies.

Natsume Fanyu placed the casserole on the table, his peripheral vision sweeping over the silent white figure by the window.

The eight-foot-tall lady did not turn around.

The morning light outlined her silhouette beneath her white shirt in exquisite detail.

From the broad shoulder line to the suddenly narrow waist, and then to the large arc that unfolds below the waistline.

Every curve lies quietly beneath the fabric, but that quietness is not peaceful; it is the calm before a storm.

He could feel the oppressive aura emanating from Madam Bachi spreading throughout the room.

The pressure wasn't directed at Matsushita Ayano, nor at Jinguji Rin, who had just disappeared around the corner of the stairs.

It's only targeting him.

Natsume Fanyu sighed inwardly.

Then he turned around and looked back at the doorway.

The landlady was still standing there.

Her expression had returned to its usual gentle calm.

Her fingers were unconsciously rubbing the scraps of fabric from her loungewear.

That's a habitual action she takes when she has something to say but is too embarrassed to speak.

Natsume Fanyu then spoke up, his voice carrying just the right amount of gentleness.

"The landlady brought up such delicious pork broth so early in the morning, surely not just to watch me eat breakfast?"

"Is there something you need from me?"

"If that's the case, why don't we eat and chat?"

Matsushita Ayano stood in the doorway, her fingers folded in front of her as she lowered them from her waist.

Her gaze passed over Natsume Fanyu's shoulder and swept across the room.

Then he stepped inside, walked to the table, and sat down opposite Natsume Fanyu.

"You really can't hide anything from Fan Yu-jun."

Matsushita Ayano's voice carried a hint of embarrassment at being seen through.

There was also a hint of soft helplessness, like "I knew you'd found out."

Natsume Fanyu served her a bowl of porridge and pushed it in front of her.

Matsushita Ayano looked down at the bowl of pork broth in front of her.

A thin layer of oil floated on the soup noodles, shimmering with a pale golden luster in the morning light.

Thin slices of pork belly settled at the bottom of the bowl, the radish was cut into bite-sized pieces, and the chopped green onions were sprinkled evenly.

She reached for her chopsticks, but didn't pick anything up. After a moment of silence, she spoke:

"That's right, Mr. Fanyu."

"I have a friend."

Natsume Fanyu paused for a moment while holding the porridge.

I have a friend.

He had heard that phrase far too many times.

In the exorcist profession, "I have a friend" is usually a euphemism for "myself".

The person who made the request is often too embarrassed to admit that they have been possessed by a ghost, so they will bring up a non-existent good friend to test the waters.

He never exposes it; that's professional conduct.

But what the landlady said next made him realize that this time, she might really be talking about a friend.

"Her name is Ogata, Ogata Mayuko."

"He was my roommate in college, and now he's a partner at a well-known law firm."

"Mayuko Ogata? That 'Queen of the Legal World'?"

Natsume Fanyu repeated the name, his tone carrying a hint of surprise.

He had seen the name in the newspaper.

In last year's Nikkei News' "Women Leader of the Year" special, Mayuko Ogata was the only person selected as a lawyer.

The woman in the photo is wearing a dark gray suit jacket over a silk shirt.

Her lower body was covered by a tight-fitting pencil skirt that accentuated her full curves, with black stockings covering her long legs and pointed stiletto heels.

If we're talking about what it means to wear business attire with soul, she's the perfect example just by standing there.

She was practically cut directly from men's fantasies about female bosses.

"Does Fan Yu know her?"

"I saw it in the newspaper; there are only a handful of women in all of Japan who could be selected for the 'Women Leader of the Year' feature and even called the 'Queen of the Legal World.'"

"yes."

Matsushita Ayano's lips curved slightly, a smile of pride for her friend.

"So when she first called me a month ago and said something seemed off at home, I thought she was joking."

"Mayuko is someone who never believes in those things."

"When we were in college, we would secretly play 'Hyakumonogatari' (a game), and she would sit next to us and flip through case law collections, saying, 'Instead of wasting time, you should memorize more cases.'"

"She only believes in what she can grasp in her own hands."

"Until three days ago, she called me at two in the morning, her voice trembling."

Natsume Fanyu put down the soup bowl.

He didn't interrupt, but just listened quietly.

By the window, the figure of the eight-foot-tall lady remained motionless in the morning light.

But Natsume Fanyu could sense that her attention was no longer on "having a good chat tonight".

She was listening.

As a spirit born from resentment and fear, she has an instinctive sensitivity to the emotion of "fear".

The fear described by the landlady at that moment clearly piqued her interest.

"It all started a month ago..." Matsushita Ayano said slowly.

"Mayuko said that for the past month, every night when she got home from get off work, she felt that the room was unusually cold as soon as she entered the door."

"It's not the normal cold of winter, it's the kind of... a chilling cold that seeps into your bones."

Natsume Fanyu's brow twitched slightly.

The landlady's description is fundamentally different from the usual "low room temperature".

Ordinary cold is physical, penetrating from the outside in.

The feeling she described was something that seeped out from the inside out.

That was a warning from human instinct and intuition.

It's not a problem with the temperature, it's a problem with the air.

The yin energy emitted by a high concentration of spirits can indeed cause a chilling sensation that spreads from the depths of one's bones.

Matsushita Ayano continued, "At first, she thought the air conditioner was broken, so she called a repairman, but he couldn't find anything wrong."

"She thought it was because she was too tired from work recently, so she went to a hot spring, did moxibustion, and drank all kinds of blood-tonifying soups, but none of them worked."

"No matter what treatment I take, I feel extremely cold and damp as soon as I get home at night."

"Moreover, starting from the second week, it wasn't just cold anymore."

Natsume Fanyu leaned forward slightly.

He didn't speak, but conveyed his message through his posture.

I'm listening attentively, please continue.

"She began to feel that when she was alone at home, she always felt like there was a gaze on her."

Matsushita Ayano finally raised her eyes and met Natsume Fanyu's gaze.

Those usually gentle eyes now reflected a sense of unease for their friend.

"That feeling... she said it was like someone was right behind her, staring at the back of her head, so close she could feel their breath, but when she turned her head, there was nothing there."

"But the moment I turned my head back, that feeling of being stared at came back."

"And every night, she could always hear a little breathing coming from the cracks in the room."

"But how could there be someone breathing in the gap?"

Natsume Fanyu remained silent for a moment.

He had already made his judgment.

It is indeed impossible for a person to exist in the cracks of a room.

But what if it's not a "person"?

in the case of...