I Was Kidnapped by a Book and Ended Up Saving the World - Chapter 25

Softly, the ears on Satoru’s head twitched. He released his hand, and his tail began to sway uncontrollably. He exhaled deeply and muttered in disbelief, “Is that guy really experimenting on my body?”

Attached to his coccyx was a naturally fluffy tail. If it weren’t for the fact that it would be unseemly in front of students, Satoru might even lift his clothes to check how much his body had changed.

Yuki’s gaze swept over Satoru’s black ears and tail. The fluffy, smooth fur made his palms itch, yet he closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

He had been sincerely following the story of Gojo Satoru as the protagonist of this book—so much so that Yuki had even prepared to write a book review. It was one of the few little hobbies he had.

But everything in front of him shattered his sweet romance completely. Why were there event indicators appearing above Satoru’s head? Why did black fox ears sprout from his head, and a tail appear behind him?

Despairingly, Yuki closed his eyes. Everything pointed to a single answer: Satoru was the second protagonist in this novel. He was the “fox wife” in the story.

Yuki hated this world, which had deceived him by its very title. Until now, he had always imagined a gentle older sister figure—but the reality was a burly man who could punch a cow to death.

Satoru’s back was broad; even in his heavy robes, his straight, strong body lines were visible. He stopped fiddling with the ears on his head and lowered his gaze to look at Yuki, whose expression had noticeably changed.

“What’s wrong? You’ve seemed off since a while ago,” he asked carefully.

He thought of something else, too. “Do you know someone in Yokohama?”

No one would resist a city for no reason. Something must have happened there in the past.

Satoru’s expression darkened. He no longer focused on the tail and ears sprouting from his body. Instead, he looked down at Yuki and asked, “Is your abusive foster monkey father in Yokohama? That damn guy.”

Yuki shook his head. A flood of thoughts passed through his mind. His earlier behavior had indeed been odd. Facing Satoru’s question, he could only reply quietly: “I came here once during a period when I was wandering.”

He tried to give the most reasonable answer possible. “At that time, gunfire rang out everywhere. All I felt in this city was cold and despair.”

Satoru’s ears tilted slightly toward Yuki, and the fox ears atop his head stood up, showing he was listening intently. After hearing everything, he didn’t force Yuki to restrain himself. Instead, he gently placed his hand on Yuki’s head again.

“If you don’t want to go, then we won’t,” Satoru said softly. “No one can force you to do something you don’t want to, not even me.”

Yuki lowered his eyes. Satoru truly treated him like a student. The more carefully he was treated, the more uneasy Yuki felt seeing his ears and tail.

Realizing it might be his problem causing these strange changes in Satoru, Yuki said, “It’s not forced. People there once helped me.”

He smiled genuinely, the pink pupils of his eyes reflecting memories as pure as a handful of fresh winter snow.

Satoru lowered his gaze. “There’s definitely more behind this.” His narrow eyes scanned Yuki carefully. After a long moment of consideration, he said in a calm tone, “Whoever went through all that trouble to awaken my body probably didn’t just want my Life Technique—they might even be plotting against Gojo using my identity.”

He looked at Yuki. “Tell Gojo I exist. Whatever problem arises, I can prove it. At least knowing I’m around, he won’t rush into things recklessly.”

Satoru’s voice softened further. “Your safety will also be better protected.”

Having reached this point, Yuki naturally didn’t refuse. But he searched the campus thoroughly and couldn’t find Gojo.

Finally, at Yakumo Masamichi’s place, he found an unexpected answer.

The middle-aged man poked at a felt doll. “Gojo?” He pricked it twice, then said to the student before him, “He just told me he had something to do in Yokohama, and left.”

Yuki, slightly shocked, watched as Yakumo continued, “He’s probably already in Yokohama.”

His teacher had taken off in a flash, leaving no intention of bringing Yuki along. Now he was far ahead, already preparing to find Satoru in Yokohama.

Seeing the moment to speak strange words again, Yuki closed his mouth. Borrowing some money for transportation under the pretext of visiting relatives, he immediately boarded a train to Yokohama.

Night had already fallen. Satoru sat with him. Perhaps because of a tether, when they sat together, Satoru didn’t worry that his body would phase through the vehicle.

The distance between them grew slightly closer. Rarely, Satoru showed some helplessness. “Actually, there’s no need to rush. I remember Gojo’s number. We could call from Yakumo’s phone and explain slowly.”

Gojo’s speed was incredible, and Yuki’s was no less. Satoru felt as if a fierce beast were chasing them from behind.

After deciding to head to Yokohama, Yuki’s strange sense of urgency finally subsided. “I want to get there faster,” he said.

That was exactly what he wanted. The sooner they arrived, the sooner he would no longer endure the strange, eerie impulses.

Yuki exhaled. Protecting both his own and Satoru’s dignity had cost him quite a bit.

Yakumo, aware of Yuki’s financial limits, provided a generous sum and told him to ask if it wasn’t enough. Traveling by train and transfers, Yuki spent five to six hours in the cold night before finally stepping onto the streets of Yokohama at the coldest time.

The moon hung high, bathing the streets in bright light like a thin layer of sugar frosting. It was nearly two or three a.m.—the coldest and quietest hour.

Yuki’s breath formed little clouds of white, slowly rising in the warm yellow streetlight.

He slowed his steps. Satoru looked at the moon and also slowed. “Such a beautiful night.”

His tail swayed behind him. Looking at Yuki, he said softly, “Let’s find somewhere to stay. It’s too cold outside—not really a moon-viewing night.”

Yuki clutched the bills in his pocket. In a normal inn, he could cover one night, but at this time, Yokohama’s regular inns were mostly closed, prioritizing self-protection.

Hotels that were open belonged to the mafia. Staff received discounts, but strangers paid a steep price. His money likely wasn’t enough.

Fortunately, the original Satoru had just finished his night duties, so he could take in a wandering sorcerer for one night.

Yuki looked at the moon, preparing his entrance, a faint smile on his face. In the cold, he said, “When I was five or six, I met someone here.”

Satoru nodded, listening to his student’s youth at night.

Yuki said, “At that time, my foster father had just passed away.” He quickly skipped over the details. “I was poor and frail, like a beggar rolling in the mud. When the closest person to me died, I even thought of leaving this world with him. Until I met him.”

He smiled slightly, just mentioning that person naturally lifting his lips.

“He wore a suit, like he was going to work, but paused when he saw me,” Yuki’s lashes quivered, his pink eyes shining beautifully. “He gave me something to eat and told me to live. As long as I live, there’s infinite potential.”

Satoru nodded. In a crowd, a few kind anomalies may exist, but Satoru’s thoughts remained unchanged. He merely said, “Indeed, a beautiful memory.”

At that moment, a man appeared on the quiet street. He wore a black suit, perfectly fitted to show the waistline. Black hair, black eyes, handsome face, with two small moles beneath his eyes.

The original and the disguise met. Mitsuaki Mizutani walked calmly past Yuki, as if he didn’t know him.

He remembered helping a child casually years ago. That child returned, now a formidable sorcerer. Since Mizutani managed sorcerers, everything that happened next would naturally follow.

He rubbed his eyes, tired from overtime, unconcerned about others on the street.

Just as he passed the boy, the hem of his coat was grabbed.

He turned to see Yuki, white-haired with pink eyes, cheeks flushed. Yuki quickly withdrew his hand and averted his gaze. “Good evening, Mr. Mizutani,” he whispered.

Mizutani blinked, surprised the boy knew him. He glanced at Yuki’s clothes, puzzled. “Yuki?”

The boy nodded quickly.

“How did you become a sorcerer?” Mizutani asked, eyebrows furrowed slightly.

Yuki lifted his head. His pink eyes met Mizutani’s black ones. Having prepared his words mentally, he suddenly couldn’t speak. The close-up performance doubled the amusement.

He hurriedly looked down, his face flushed. They fell silent.

Mitsuo’s brow furrowed slightly.

Satoru, standing nearby, sensed something was very wrong. This person could so easily unsettle Yuki, who had never shown this expression before.

Even before Gojo, Yuki was clever, lively, and fearless. But now, facing a man in a suit, he couldn’t utter two words. His pink eyes glistened with tears.

Satoru pressed his brow. He must be mistaken. Things couldn’t be that way—his thoughts were too extreme.

After the tension eased, Mizutani asked Yuki, “Why come to Yokohama so late?”

Yuki lowered his gaze. “To visit my family.”

“I see,” Mizutani nodded. “I handle sorcerer arrangements. You might be my client in the future.” His black eyes curved kindly, the two small moles making his face endearing.

“It’s very late,” Mizutani continued. “Most hotels are closed. I’ll take you to a mafia-owned hotel.”

He then asked, “Do you want me to inform Gojo?”

Yuki’s step froze. He nodded rapidly. Compared to finding a public phone, direct contact was more convenient.

For some reason, although Yuki felt his acting with the original went well, Satoru’s expression remained reserved.

Mizutani’s eyes naturally swept Satoru’s position—seeing nothing. No matter how many times he looked, he was shocked; only Yuki could see Satoru.

But thinking about it, it made sense—Yuki’s disguise was made to interact with Gojo and Satoru.

Mizutani entered a luxury hotel. Since the room was for his disguise, it had to be comfortable.

The receptionist greeted him immediately, “Mr. Mizutani.”

He nodded, and Yuki appeared behind him, standing together.

“This is a mafia guest. I remember a few deluxe rooms. Give him one, charge it to my account,” Mizutani instructed.

As the card was handed, a voice questioned, “Mizutani?”

Chuya Nakahara, also awake at 2–3 a.m., straightened his hat, annoyed, eyes on the boy.

White hair, pink eyes, like a magical rabbit in the snow—such a person would never belong to the mafia.

Chuya opened his mouth, but Mizutani tossed the card to the innocent-looking boy.

Chuya scanned back and forth, puzzled by Mizutani’s familiar yet secretive expression—like he had seen on Satoru’s face earlier.

Chuya approached Mizutani, who took a step back. “I never interfere in subordinates’ private matters, but that child is clearly underage.”

Shorter than Chuya, pink-eyed, naive. Bringing him to a mafia hotel at 2–3 a.m., and opening only one room.

Mizutani finally understood why Satoru and Chuya looked so strange.

“I encountered Gojo’s student, gave him a room alone, and plan to inform Gojo to pick him up,” Mizutani explained.

He rubbed his brow. “I’m not staying here—prefer home.” His candid eyes unsettled Chuya slightly.

“Understood,” Chuya replied. Then asked, “You manage sorcerers. What about cursed sorcerers?”

Mizutani nodded. “I know roughly—famous sorcerers, including some cursed sorcerers. In the past, Mori Ougai considered hiring them for exorcisms.”

Peaceful deals worked; if cursed sorcerers acted, mafia could handle it. Mizutani had gathered data on cursed sorcerers.

“What happened?” Mizutani asked, seeing Chuya’s earlier frustration.

“After a mission, I met someone claiming to be a cursed sorcerer leader. He invited me to join his organization,” Chuya seethed.

If it were just that, he wouldn’t be angry. He must have said something more offensive.

Knowing Chuya’s background, Mizutani paid attention.

“Wearing robes, hair tied in a bun, about 1.9 meters?” Mizutani asked.

Chuya nodded. “Yes. I fought a bit, but his cursed spirit was tricky. After a few minutes, he ran.”

“Summer…Satoru?” Mizutani puzzled. A person daring to recruit Chuya, mafia’s ace, must be confident. Insane.

Chuya asked, “Any details?”

Mizutani nodded. “Special-grade cursed sorcerer, previously a leader.”

“Leader replaced?” Chuya frowned. “Escaped mid-fight, yet leader?”

Mizutani shook his head. “Confirmed dead a month ago. Killed by Gojo.”

Chuya raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. A dead man dares provoke me.”

Mizutani asked about distinctive features. “There’s a circle of stitches on his forehead, like skull surgery.”

Chuya considered. A stolen body with stitched head, mysterious purpose.

“Rest, Chuya. I’ll compile data and ask Gojo. He knows more about resurrected Satoru,” Mizutani said, determined not to sleep.

Chuya, seeing Mizutani exhausted, patted his shoulder. “I’ll send you a bonus tomorrow.”

The night was biting. Mizutani returned to position; Yuki saw Satoru float over.

Good—messages could be shared immediately.

Yuki looked at the man in the suit, posture straight, body fit, black suit high-quality, bearing a cold, workaholic aura.

Since Chuya encountered fake Satoru, the real one must still be in Yokohama. He likely won’t stop trying to recruit Chuya, making it a perfect opportunity.

Mizutani guessed the key plot point: Satoru reclaiming his body. Yokohama tonight would be lively. Gojo was already there; any disturbance would be minor.

He was about to call Gojo when a message came from the top boss, Mori Ougai: [Come to my office].

Mizutani raised an eyebrow; Gojo likely chose a mafia location first. He called, and the night operation team drove him back.

The elevator shot up. On the top floor, Mizutani stepped onto the familiar carpet.

The guards opened the door. Mori Ougai’s office was bright; he smiled, Alice beside him, pouting.

Gojo sat in a soft chair, lifting one side of his blindfold. “You’re amusing yourself well.”

Alice, startled, hid behind the chair.

Mizutani slowed his steps, pretending to ignore the secret info.

No matter Gojo’s tone, Mori Ougai smiled. “Leave the search to Mizutani. His skills are top-notch even in the mafia.”

Mizutani bowed. “Sir, I have something to report.”

Mori Ougai’s eyes lit with interest. Mizutani reporting now indicated knowledge about Gojo’s search.

“I saw Chuya encounter a seemingly resurrected Satoru at the red brick warehouse,” Mizutani said.

Gojo instantly sat upright. “When?”

“About ten minutes ago.”

Mori Ougai, watching, said, “Teleportation, no limits, high-grade attack… the sorcery world hides a lot. Simply exorcising spirits is wasteful.”

His eyes flickered with regret, then returned to Mizutani. “You have more to report, I’m sure.”

“Yes, sir. Satoru invited Chuya to join, spoke offensively, has a forehead stitch not present before death. Also, I encountered Gojo’s student, temporarily housed at a mafia hotel.”

Mori Ougai, caught off guard, smiled. “What’s going on?”

“Gojo rushed to find Satoru but seems to have missed him,” Mizutani lied.

Mori Ougai nodded. “Everything in the hotel is free for him. Mafia is on good terms with sorcerers; all requests are met immediately.”

He praised Mizutani quietly for accomplishing so much. Mizutani exited.

He stretched, anticipating a lively night in Yokohama.

—

Yuki ate the hotel’s free meal while offering some to Satoru. He found even a loosely made tomb-shaped offering worked.

Satoru took a flower-shaped snack and recounted what he had heard to Yuki.

“Gojo’s in Yokohama. Once he knows, he won’t use his cursed energy recklessly. If he didn’t know, any use of cursed energy would summon Gojo instantly. Either way, we have the absolute advantage.” His expression grew cold.

“This is our chance to intercept him,” Satoru said, his eyes narrowing with a sly smile, fluffy tail swaying. “Red Brick Warehouse is an outdated fake location. Victory is ours.”

Hearing this, Yuki felt a rare surge of excitement. He pocketed the card and ran toward the darkness in the direction Satoru indicated.