I Was Kidnapped by a Book and Ended Up Saving the World - Chapter 16

Even though his expression stayed calm, as if prompted by the very word itself, Snow’s stomach gave two loud growls.

Suguru Geto let out a small laugh. In that moment, it was as if he had changed from a frozen oil painting into someone with real emotions, no longer keeping his gaze fixed on his monk’s robe.

“You should contact—” His words cut off halfway.

Snow slowly lifted his head. Clearly, the man in front of him had realized that neither of them carried any electronic devices, making them seem like two wild men who had just stumbled into human society.

The frail boy with white hair and pink eyes wore only two scraps of cloth. He didn’t have a single valuable item on him.

Though they had entered human society, even managed to find a roof over their heads, the reality was that both man and ghost were still living like survivalists in the wilderness.

Snow’s pink eyes gleamed like jewels in the snow, his chin tilted slightly upward as he gazed at Geto.

When they descended the mountain, his eyes had always been sharp with vigilance. But now, perhaps softened by the warmth of the room, some of that heavy guard melted away. The eyes he turned on the adult in the house looked like those of a harmless small animal, carrying a trace of reliance.

Suguru suddenly felt the urge to laugh again. Perhaps because it had been such a long time since he had the chance to rest, to think quietly about everything, that a bit of his boyish humor resurfaced from deep inside.

In death, the world seemed to have become equalized. Monkeys could no longer see him, nor could sorcerers or curse users. The only one who could see him now was this frail boy, who was so pitifully thin he seemed like a monkey himself. And yet, paradoxically, this boy had become his only bridge to the living world.

So perhaps this boy with nothing but a shabby name was, in fact, a kind of spirit medium monkey.

Geto had originally intended to wait until they found a proper place before discussing detailed cooperation. If this young man was truly unique enough to form a bond with him, even as a dead spirit, then the rest of his plans would become much easier.

But before he could even take the first step, reality struck them with a very real crisis.

First, the boy’s clothing was so thin that even indoors he might freeze to death. Second, if Geto didn’t find food soon, this scrawny youth—ribs already jutting out—might starve before the cold got to him.

For the first time since his death, Suguru Geto found himself caught in such a storm of urgent, practical thoughts.

Snow was waiting for his decision as well. If this special-grade curse user truly had no ideas, he could always make up an excuse and have his true body send someone in Tokyo to feed him.

“There’s a tablet inside,” Geto finally said, his pause lasting less than half a minute. His body turned toward another room. “…If it’s still there.”

Snow followed his direction and pushed open the wooden door. It creaked faintly as it swung open, revealing neatly arranged bookshelves and, in the corner, a box with an old game console.

Searching the cabinet where Geto had indicated, Snow found a laptop tucked inside its case. Even though it was an older model, it booted up without much delay.

Geto smoothly recited a string of numbers. Without hesitation, he even gave out his own password. In the bright room, he looked at the boy seated at the desk and said gently, “This is my LINE ID. Any one of the contacts there can make sure you get food.”

Snow’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. Slowly, he said, “Mr. Kasha, I don’t know how to log in to this LINE you mentioned.”

Pretending carelessly at being illiterate, Snow looked up at Geto with a beautiful smile. His narrow eyes gleamed, the purple so vivid it seemed ready to spill out, and even his voice took on the lilting tone of a tempter.

A special-grade sorcerer, dead yet suddenly revived online—who wouldn’t be curious? These people weren’t cut off from society; especially curse users, whose nature was chaotic and evil. With just a little money, they could easily trace the login location. Snow didn’t even need to imagine it: the moment he signed in, Geto’s subordinates would crawl through the wires toward him.

And in his current skeletal state, Snow couldn’t even fight a normal person, let alone stand against curse users.

He could already picture the chain of events—once discovered, he’d be in mortal danger. Geto could always reveal insider information that only their circle would know. The moment they believed he still lingered in the world, visible only to Snow, things would spiral straight into disaster.

Snow’s pale, bony fingers slid away from the keyboard. Geto, still wearing that gentle mask, looked at him and said softly, “It’s fine, good child. I can teach you.”

Compared to the deathlike stillness he’d shown on the mountain, this fake tenderness and practical manipulation felt almost familiar to Snow.

He was skilled at negotiation himself, especially in situations where the advantage was clearly his.

A thunderous crash suddenly shattered the calm. Both ghost and boy turned their eyes toward the doorway at the same time.

The fragile wooden door burst open, the metal handle slamming into the wall with a wince-inducing crack.

A tall man in a deep-blue uniform appeared in the room at a speed beyond imagining. His hair was stark white, his eyes covered by a black blindfold. With his hands stuffed into his pockets, he tilted his head slightly and regarded the thin boy seated at the desk with a strange look.

Satoru Gojo’s expression carried the faintest trace of puzzlement.

“Who are you?”