I Was Kidnapped by a Book and Ended Up Saving the World - Chapter 8

“Let’s go, time for some fieldwork.”
Dazai Osamu narrowed his eyes with a smile. One eye was hidden beneath a clean white bandage, leaving only the amber-colored one exposed.

“Do you know anything about Special-Grade Curses?” Nakahara Chūya tilted his head slightly, glancing at Mizutani Hikaru on the other side.

His subordinate, dressed in a pitch-black suit, looked stern and unyielding. Yet, the two small round moles under his eyes added a touch of distinct charm to his appearance.

“Special-Grades have Domains.” Mizutani Hikaru recalled how a friend once described it. “A Domain is like another space—you do some kind of special action, and you’re pulled in.”

They walked into a wasteland of broken walls and collapsed ruins. The air was still thick with gunpowder and the stench of bl00d.

The sky was no longer overcast. Sunlight poured down in sheets, as though determined to banish the gloom from this desolate battlefield.

Mizutani’s gaze shifted eastward. A slab of dark-gray stone jutted firmly from the ground, resembling a solitary gravestone planted into the earth.

That was where Suzuki Yū had appeared back then, hiding beneath the stone slab.

“Why are you staring over there?” Dazai’s voice suddenly rang beside his ear.

Perhaps because of the sunlight, his damp hair had fluffed up again, yet his eyes still carried that submerged chill—like he would never truly be touched by fleeting rays of light.

What presence… Mizutani couldn’t help but admire inwardly.

No wonder people called him the most terrifying enemy. After that brief awe, Mizutani shook his head. “It’s nothing. It just feels… too different from before.”

Back then, the buildings were dilapidated but still home to a few slum kids—there had been life.

Now, only collapsed ruins remained. The children had long fled who knew where, leaving behind only a bullet-riddled stone slab that had once sheltered Suzuki Yū’s life.

“See anything?” Chūya asked.

The scene was eerily still. Not even the kind of Curse that looked like oversized flies was in sight.

It was too quiet. After some thought, Mizutani said, “Nothing… maybe it’s hiding.”

Almost the moment his words fell, another vision cut through—this time in Suzuki Yū’s perspective. A line of bright white tore through his pitch-black world, leaving behind a deafening crack.

A familiar sound—the discharge of a bullet. And as the shot rang out, the Suzuki Yū who had been washing his hands vanished instantly from the wooden floorboards.

It was like being teleported in a blink. Yū’s hands braced against the ground to steady himself, but immediately recoiled in horror at the wet, warm, pulsating sensation beneath his palms.

The touch was nauseating, instinctively terrifying—danger itself pressing against his soul.

In his mind, a black-and-white manga unfurled. Twisting corridors of writhing flesh stretched out before him. He followed the drawn path forward. Suspended from above were captured mafia members—among them, two familiar faces.

At the center of those strung-up bodies, a massive cocoon pulsed like a beating heart.

And then—just as the younger version of himself appeared in the panel—the scarlet walls slammed shut, plunging everything into darkness.

From these visions, Yū began piecing together how his ability worked. It seemed he could foresee deaths that would occur hours later. For now, the ability triggered passively.

Testing, he turned down another path. With no manga panels surfacing, he let out a small breath of relief.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed from the corridor’s end—thick and sticky, like leather shoes wading through pools of bl00d.

Yū melted into a hollow crevice, his small body nearly vanishing into the shadows. Holding his breath, he erased every trace of sound—like a fallen leaf unnoticed on the ground.

The footsteps drew closer. His fingers tightened around a shard of iron he’d scavenged. This warped space was a blend of reality and nightmare—so real objects still existed. And this jagged piece of metal was his only weapon.

Untrained body or not, if he struck the right spot, his small size and agility could buy him time.

“Yū?” The sticky footsteps halted—and a man’s familiar voice followed.

In an instant, the iron shard was slipped up his sleeve, hidden but ready. Cautiously, Yū rose from his hiding spot. His ability hadn’t triggered—meaning this wasn’t an illusion luring him out.

From the hollow stepped Oda Sakunosuke. He saw the child emerge like a mushroom from the cracks of rubble—white shirt stained crimson, cheeks smeared with bl00d.

Oda knelt, gently wiping his face clean. He too had been dragged here suddenly, just moments after defusing a dud grenade with other mafia members.

When he landed, crimson tendrils lashed at him, but he’d cut them all down before navigating these grotesque, flesh-woven corridors in search of an exit.

Still, he hadn’t expected to find the foster child he’d just taken in. Yū’s concealment had been flawless, but Oda’s trained instincts had picked him out.

“When did you get here?” Oda asked, eyes still scanning their surroundings as he cleaned away the bl00d.

“Just now,” Yū tilted his chin slightly to make it easier for him.

“It’s dangerous here.”

“I know.” Yū’s voice was quiet. Rescue waited outside—but no one knew how to get in.

Back in reality, Mizutani had tried firing his gun the instant the bullet vision appeared—but it hadn’t worked. The gunshot wasn’t the key to entering the Domain.

Oda patted Yū’s shoulder. “I’m here. Don’t be afraid.”

…Not exactly seeking comfort, Yū fell silent, trailing after him. The twisting paths of flesh soon left even Oda disoriented. After several turns, he unknowingly began walking down the path Yū had seen in his vision.

The wrong path.

Once again, Mizutani’s ability flared—replaying the same black-and-white scene. This time Oda fought back with a gun, lasting a little longer—before the panel washed out into pure white.

Yū froze. He understood pure black meant death’s end. But what was pure white? Another kind of death? A more abstract expression of it?

Confused but tense, he gripped Oda’s coat tighter.

The tall man, clad in his mafia blacks, strode forward, every step measured. His coat hem swayed with each movement, his presence grim and composed.

But Yū tugged sharply, halting him. “What’s wrong?” Oda asked, thinking the child was simply frightened. Without hesitation, he lifted him up with one arm.

The usually composed child flushed, squirming faintly in the embrace. After a moment, he gave in, burying his face into Oda’s coat as though resigning himself.

From within the muffling embrace, his muffled voice finally came—clear to Oda even through the squirming sound of the walls around them.

“Don’t go any further, Oda Sakunosuke. Ahead lies a monster.”