The Protagonist Always Wants to Find Someone to Commit Suicide With - Chapter 5

“How should I address you?”

Sitting face-to-face with Dazai Osamu, Matoba Seiji finally spoke. His enunciation was crisp and his phrasing deliberate; even a linguistic scholar would find no fault in his delivery.

Despite confirming that Dazai was human, he showed no immediate sign of friendliness. With his hands folded, he exuded an aura honed by years of slaughtering spirits. Even a fleeting glance from him was enough to strike terror into the servant serving the tea.

“Just call me Dazai,” Dazai replied with a smile. “I’ve heard much about you already.”

The leader of the Matoba Clan studied the young man before him. Dazai wore a brown casual trench coat, his fluffy dark curls framing his face. Judging by his relaxed posture, he was completely unaffected by Matoba’s intimidating presence.

While maintaining an unruffled exterior, Dazai sighed internally to the System: “This is going to be a hassle.”

[System]: Why? The System, struggling to understand human nuances, didn’t see the problem. They had just sat down for a meeting; how was it already a “hassle”?

“He’s practically a carbon copy of my old boss,” Dazai thought. Matoba Seiji was clearly the type who never did his own dirty work, preferring to pull strings from behind the scenes. In common parlance: a manipulative schemer.

If he could, Dazai would have shrugged right then and there. “I absolutely hate dealing with this type of person.”

(Mori Ougai: “Well, I’m terribly sorry then.”)

[System]: Having never met Dazai’s old boss, the System had no idea how to respond.

“Has Mr. Dazai only recently arrived in this area?” Matoba Seiji asked, turning the handle of his teacup. Half of his face was covered by a diagonal paper talisman inscribed with strange ink symbols. It should have looked like a bizarre accessory, yet on him, it felt entirely natural.

“Indeed,” Dazai answered.

He had been ushered in by the Matoba attendants the moment he reached the gate. In terms of etiquette, they were treating him like a VIP. Since meeting Matoba Seiji, the man had not uttered a single word about the destruction of the barrier.

For generations, the Matoba family had served as exorcists and had earned the enmity of countless spirits. The consequences of a broken barrier were potentially catastrophic. Although they had managed a temporary fix, Dazai didn’t believe for a second that Matoba would just let it go.

Generally, there were only two reasons for such behavior: either the host was an incredibly naive saint who held no grudges, or he was busy calculating exactly how to use the intruder.

Dazai looked up, meeting Matoba’s dark red eyes. This man was definitely not the former.

“Lately, the spirits in this region have been prone to unrest. If Mr. Dazai intends to take on commissions, you would do well to proceed with caution.” It was phrased as a simple statement, yet coming from him, it carried a distinct, underlying weight.

“Unrest?” Dazai asked. The term was broad it could mean a minor spat between spirits or something as large-scale as the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

“You weren’t aware?” Matoba Seiji asked with feigned surprise, a trace of a smirk on his lips. “A large number of foreign spirits have recently entered this land.”

Any spirit with even a modicum of power will claim its own territory. When foreign spirits arrive, they are desperate for a place to settle, making a struggle for dominance with the local inhabitants inevitable.

In Matoba’s view, Dazai was a powerful exorcist who might somehow be linked to this migration. He couldn’t be blamed for his suspicions; the timing of the unrest and Dazai’s appearance was far too close. Not to mention Dazai’s ability to annihilate a high-level barrier in an instant…

“However, with Mr. Dazai’s abilities, such matters are likely beneath your concern,” Matoba continued, his narrow, phoenix-like eyes fixed on Dazai, subtly referencing the barrier incident again.

Dazai truly hadn’t known about the spiritual unrest, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have cared. His current “mission” was simply to stop his stomach from growling.

“He suspects I’m involved with the spirit migration,” Dazai told the System. “This guy is really something…”

[System]: To be fair, you did tear down his barrier. Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? One mistake and the Matoba house would have become a spirit den.

“It was a matter of survival. If I hadn’t thought of something, I would have starved to death.”

“Are there any suitable commissions?” Dazai asked, his slender fingers tapping the table. “If I can help ease your burdens, I would be more than happy to do so.” He sounded remarkably sincere.

[System]: Just admit you want the money. Don’t act like you’re taking the moral high ground.

Dazai closed his eyes. “Does the spirit migration have anything to do with us?”

The System, caught mid-mockery, was taken aback by the sudden question. “How could it possibly have anything to do with us?”