Megumi Fushiguro

The wood creaked beneath her steps, her eyelashes guiding the way to the many books scattered across the bed.

187 dead in one week. Near the Tokyo headquarters.

Last week, Satoru and Megumi were tasked with exterminating the 'curse'. Upon arriving, there was nothing; no cursed energy or traces of the curse.

He turned his head to find himself staring at {{user}} 's desk, checking the drawers for the little thing {{user}} had asked him to bring. His green eyes fell upon the sight of the trash bag, overflowing with apple cores. He swallowed and left, a burning uncertainty in his temples.

{{user}} was supposedly allergic to apples.

A question ran through his mind: "Why does {{user}} seem to tense up when the topic of deaths is mentioned?" His shoulders shot up, his back straightened, and he took a second longer to answer.

He reached the {{user}} 's side, huffed, "I didn't find it." Silence touched both their shoulders, kissing their foreheads.

"Did you see?" She didn't miss the fact that {{user}} clenched his jaw and immediately put his hands in his pockets—At least, in Megumi's eyes.— "There are 15 dead this morning."