I Was Kidnapped by a Book and Ended Up Saving the World - Chapter 17

Gojo Satoru’s tall frame gradually loomed closer, his deep-blue teacher’s uniform outlining the kind of perfect lines that made him seem almost sculpted. When he tilted his head slightly to look at the boy sitting in the chair—even without removing his blindfold—Yuki still felt an unprecedented pressure weigh down on him.

This tall, handsome man had withdrawn the frivolous smile he was known for. What remained was a chilling scrutiny, a coldness so real it felt as though simply being here was a crime.

Yuki’s fingers curled slightly. After getting the name “Geto Suguru,” he had dug into everything he could find about the man, so he also knew that Gojo and him were once best friends.

He had originally assumed that once they stood on opposite sides, any bond would have long since been erased. But now, it didn’t seem so.

He sighed quietly in his heart. His original goal had been simple: enroll in school properly and then find a normal reason to take a photo with Gojo Satoru. But ever since he’d appeared in that snow-filled forest, nothing had gone smoothly.

Gojo studied the person in front of him. What he saw was a frail-looking teenager who seemed like he could collapse at any moment. His clothes were torn and far too small; Gojo could even see his protruding ribs and faint traces of injuries on his skin.

From appearance alone, the boy was like a stray cat—an abandoned child. Yet Gojo didn’t drop his guard. Before coming in, he had already reviewed the security footage at the door and had clearly seen how this boy so skillfully retrieved a spare key hidden beneath the bricks to open Geto’s house.

“Who are you to Suguru?”

Arms crossed, Gojo looked down at Yuki from above.

Yuki blinked slowly. His pale lashes looked like fluttering feathers under the light, adding to his fragile aura. Good—Gojo hadn’t struck him immediately. That meant his disguise still had a chance of surviving.

Several thoughts ran through Yuki’s mind before he finally answered:
“I don’t know this person called Suguru.”

Geto stood silently right beside him, body tilted slightly as though leaning toward the boy in the chair. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but after Yuki’s words, he closed it again.

Yuki glanced at the two towering figures pressing in on him and subtly scooted the chair back. He really wasn’t used to being this close to people. But neither Gojo nor Geto seemed to care about personal space.

A flicker of doubt crossed Gojo’s expression. He pressed on:
“Then who sent you here?”

His voice was firm, every syllable landing like a stone.

Geto turned his head slightly, and even though he knew Gojo couldn’t see him, a strange sense of shame flickered through his ghostly heart.

Yuki caught the shift in Geto’s expression and found it faintly amusing. After all, the Geto standing here now had none of the seductive menace or subtle hostility he’d shown before. Just Gojo’s presence seemed enough to alter him in silence.

He suddenly understood, more deeply than ever, what the word “best friend” in his intel had truly meant.

With a childlike innocence, Yuki turned and said:
“It was Uncle Kashō.”

“Who?” Gojo frowned, his confusion deepening. He quickly ran through the names of sorcerers in his mind. Aside from the two sisters Geto had taken in, no one came up.

Yuki then clarified:
“Kashō Wuwuzi. The name sounds a little strange, but he’s a good person.”

That bizarre name clearly startled Gojo. His expression shifted multiple times, and it took him a full half minute before he dryly asked:
“Can you describe what he looks like?”

Geto silently turned away, but Yuki still described him with precision:
“He wore luxurious robes, had his hair in a bun, very tall, very handsome.”

The string of descriptors left Gojo utterly speechless.

The boy then asked, face full of sincerity:
“Do you know Uncle Kashō?”

Gojo was baffled. Since when did Geto develop a hobby of tricking beggar kids with fake names? Or was there some other hidden intent?

He gave a vague nod and said casually, “Yeah, I know him.”

“Did he tell you to do something? Or how did you meet him?” Gojo pressed further.

Like a ghost, Geto drifted to Yuki’s side and placed a hand on the chair’s back. Leaning close, he spoke in a low voice that sent shivers racing down Yuki’s spine:
“Tell him I asked you to come here after my death, to turn on the computer and log into my Line account.”

For now, Yuki and Geto were on the same side. As long as things weren’t exposed, Geto had no reason to harm him.

So Yuki raised his head to look up at the towering Gojo and said:
“Uncle Kashō gave me an address and told me to wait some time, then come here to log into his Line account.”

Gojo’s expression turned complicated. Even he couldn’t quite figure out Geto’s motive. Having a frail kid log into his account seemed useless—at most it would alert his subordinates that the long-inactive account was suddenly active again.

But in a flash, the pieces clicked. Once the account was logged in, others would definitely notice, and perhaps they’d try to take the boy away. With that kind of cursed energy hidden inside him, this frail teenager could easily become a target.

Could this child be Geto’s secret heir?

Gojo frowned slightly. That didn’t add up. If Geto really cared, why would the boy be dressed in rags, freezing half to death in winter?

Then again—perhaps the boy himself was cautious, and Geto hadn’t been able to take him yet. Their last battle had come so suddenly, leaving no time for arrangements. Maybe all Geto managed was a few parting words.

Yuki couldn’t quite read Gojo’s thoughts. He was good at analyzing microexpressions, but the problem was that Gojo had about eight hundred of them per minute. So many, so fast, they canceled each other out.

“Exactly!”

Suddenly, Gojo leaned down and clapped Yuki on the shoulder. The abrupt touch made Yuki nearly jump away, but Gojo pressed him back into the chair as though pinning down a cat.

He removed his black blindfold, revealing his strikingly handsome face and those dazzling blue eyes, shimmering like jewels. With a serious expression, Gojo declared:
“I’m the one continuing Kashō Wuwuzi’s plan. Your uncle wanted you to get an education—not live like a wild child in the mountains.”

Yuki pretended not to notice the hostility from when Gojo first entered. Instead, he nodded meekly:
“So that’s how it is.”

Hearing his ridiculous alias uttered so earnestly, Geto shut his eyes in silent agony—but soon opened them again. Looking down at Yuki, he seemed surprised that the boy was, in fact, a sorcerer.

All the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind quieted. Relief washed over him, as if Yuki being a sorcerer proved that he had never truly misjudged him. Even that earlier flicker of pity now felt like justified foresight.

Resting his large hand still on the chair, Geto glanced at Gojo and, with an almost cheerful tone, said:
“Well, looks like you’ll have someone to feed you for life.”

Then he leaned closer, voice lowering with a faint threat:
“But you’d better not expose me, Yuki. This man really is my friend, but he’s also an obsessive lunatic. His greatest passion is monitoring the mental health of his students. If you say you can see ghosts, he might lock you in some terrifying basement.”

Yuki lowered his head slightly, as if mulling over Gojo’s invitation to join the school. In truth, he was weighing the benefits of revealing Geto’s existence. If he spoke up, it might only be dismissed as a delusion—after all, even Gojo couldn’t see spirits. Without solid proof, no one would believe him.

Besides, keeping it hidden meant he could continue to observe Geto’s plans and intentions. After all, no one bothered hiding things from an “illiterate, naïve” boy.

Gojo tilted his head and smiled:
“If you go to school, you’ll make new friends.”

Yuki hesitated outwardly, then asked softly:
“Will I get to eat my fill there?”

Gojo grinned.
“Of course. You’ll have classmates to go on missions with, and most importantly—you’ll have a super handsome teacher like me.”

Yuki glanced at him. For reasons unknown, Geto now seemed to be standing together with Gojo. Both the man and the ghost could clearly see the look on Yuki’s face, his carefully crafted expression.

Finally, Yuki smiled faintly and said:
“Great. So Mr. Kashō Wuwuzi wasn’t lying. I really can live a better life.”

That name, spoken aloud in Gojo’s presence, was like a dagger. Geto quickly turned away, feigning indifference as he walked to the other side of the room.