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"Um..." Yuji Itadori raised his hand tentatively, but immediately put it down when the Primordial Celestial Body turned around and looked at him, with a timid expression as if to say, "I withdraw my statement, just pretend you didn't see it."
"Please ask the question, Yuji Itadori."
It nodded. Although there was no expression on its face, one could feel that its attitude was very friendly, just like a teacher at the podium encouraging students to speak actively.
She's completely different from Hipper! She'll just glance over and tell you to keep your story short, and not spend more than four sentences describing a single thing. When she's not interested and too lazy to chat someone up, she'd rather just do her quests than participate in their conversation. T^T
The primordial celestial body will also politely say: "Please"!
The difference is obvious!
"Where's Hipper?"
And who is Jie? Is he the hardworking employee who will work for her forever?
"Hmm..." It was obvious that it hesitated, as if considering how to start.
"Well, if you're embarrassed, you don't have to answer."
Although I'm curious about Hipper's secret, I'd rather forget it if I get criticized later T^T.
However, the reaction of the Primordial Body after hearing what he said was a little strange. It first glanced at Gojo Satoru, and then slowly turned back to Yuji.
It's like comparing something.
Gojo Satoru came to the conclusion that this didn't seem to be a good thing for him.
"Little Sun is not bad either." It said this while staring at Yuji Itadori.
Curious but restrained, completely different from the control freak who secretly wanted to know everything about Hipper. Who was he talking about? Of course, it was Gojo-sensei, who was unaware of his illness.
The topic was a bit jumpy, and Yuji Itadori didn't understand what he was saying, but he had a vague intuition - it was praising itself.
"Thanks?"
"Haha, I'm very optimistic about you, Hisahito." It has already started to call his name affectionately.
When you are shipping a couple, you can’t just stick to one type of food. You should at least try different flavors, right?
Gojo Satoru, who was being implicitly criticized, did not refute it. He listened to others praising the couple of their favorite candidate and his student in front of him. In his heart, there was nothing else but a calm sigh.
Something like: "Ah, here we go again, a bunch of little kids who don't understand the charm of the adult group." Or, "He's going to lose to a student? Impossible."
"That's not the problem." It spoke with the same clear and slow articulation as Hipper, with a unique intonation and rhythm. "But before that, would you like to hear my request?"
Its considerate and easy-going way of talking makes people unconsciously put themselves in the position of a subordinate and want to agree to all its requests.
"Tell me first," Gojo Satoru cut off his students' responses, lest they rashly agree to sell themselves out without realizing it. When it comes to deceiving people, neither Hipper nor the Primordial Object is any less capable.
It can make people happy, but it can also cheat people out of their fortunes.
"Of course, Mr. Gojo." Not caring about its little trick being interrupted, it nodded, took a few steps closer, and spread its hands.
"Then let's find a more suitable place to talk."
"It will be a safe and private place."
There was a faint vibration of some unknown huge object in the air, and my ears caught a sound similar to that of glass breaking.
"Welcome to our world—"
The primordial celestial body bowed slightly, making an invitation gesture.
"Simulated Universe."
A crack opened up behind it, reaching up to the limit of the sky, as if the entire sky was cut open by a long and thin wound, and behind it was an endless abyss.
A deep blue slowly seeped from the edges of the cracks, as viscous as molten glass, yet wriggling and flowing like a living thing. It glowed with an eerie fluorescence, like liquid phosphorescence in the dim light, both beautiful and eerie. The slurry sometimes solidified into a jellylike drip, sometimes stretched out into gooey, spider-like threads, like the tentacles of some unknown life form, probing and extending through the air. The instant the blue substance came into contact with air, it began to disintegrate.
Mysterious, dangerous, and full of fatal attraction.
Apart from them, no one seemed to care about this scene. They were like ordinary people who could not see the curse spirits, nor did they look at the cracks in the sky.
"Let me confirm again, you will protect our safety, right?" Wild Rose, whose worldview was shattered, swallowed her saliva. She vaguely felt that her cognition would continue to be shattered.
This would be even more shocking than the first time she saw a cursed spirit and came into contact with the world of spells.
She had a strong premonition that a new world was about to be opened to them.
"Of course, Wild Rose, Hipper's order is absolute." It stretched out its hand to signal everyone to go in quickly, but no one moved first.
Primordial body:?
They stared at each other, their eyes flickering, their lips tense, their fingers unconsciously twisting the corners of their clothes or curling into fists. Some looked away, their eyelashes fluttering, but they couldn't help but glance at the crack from the corner of their eyes. Hesitation, even resistance, shrouded their faces like a thin mist, so obvious—how could it not be seen?
Give them some room to step down and leave some buffer.
"Are you worried about the mission? It's already completed." The finishing phase has been completed in the previous conversation. Being distracted and having multiple threads are basic operations for artificial intelligence, let alone it.
Even the report was written in Gojo Satoru's style.
"The report has been sent to you."
The phone in my pocket made a prompt sound at the right time, indicating that an email had been received.
“…”
This absolute, yet breathtaking, sense of control...were the bodyguards Hipper assigned to them serious? Why did they look like perverts who'd committed too much illegal imprisonment?
"Yeah, okay."
Seeing the vigilant and slightly hostile eyes of this group of people, it withdrew its hands with regret and put them behind its back.
The cracks in the sky healed under its command. When everyone relaxed and thought it had finally given up the idea of inviting them as guests, its hands, which had been hidden behind its back, suddenly rubbed lightly - the crisp snap of its fingers pierced the silence like shattering glass.
Not good! It's here to stealthily steal!
The world suddenly twisted, like a canvas twisted by an invisible giant hand—the sky collapsed into a vortex, the ground tumbled up, and the surrounding scenery scattered like torn pieces of paper. They didn't even have time to scream before the light and shadows before their eyes collapsed and reorganized, the scene transformed in an instant.
When they came back to their senses, soft lighting shone directly into their eyes. Everyone's back was pressed against the seat. They had unknowingly sat neatly in a spacious, empty studio, sitting on hard metal chairs, their elbows rubbing against the armrests, as if they had never moved from the beginning. The only sound in the silence was the erratic breathing of each other.
"I'm still better at inviting people over like this."
Her fingers folded lightly, resting precariously on the folds of dark fabric, her fingertips pressing against the bones of her wrists. Her gaze drifted slowly from face to face, the shadow cast by her eyelashes trembling slightly, as if silently measuring each person's reaction. Her gaze wasn't sharp, but it carried a weight, like a damp mist drifting across the skin, making one hold their breath.
It's quite unique, direct kidnapping.
"He's a habitual criminal, isn't he?" Wild Rose had already stood up and surveyed the surroundings warily, noticing quite a few details of human life. A blanket was draped over the ergonomic chair, and a pair of slippers lay under the corner of the table. Judging by their size, they belonged to a woman. There was also an unopened chocolate bar on the table.
Imprisoning repeat offenders? Talking about that?
"No." The Primordial pulled out a chair and sat down, legs elegantly crossed, hands resting on knees, tapping gently. "I'm the one imprisoned by Hipper."
Everyone stopped moving, their eyes fixed on it. An eerie silence hung in the air, with only occasional gasps audible. Shock was written all over their faces.
"This is considered a jailbreak."
You two have quite a story. One was illegally imprisoned, and the other escaped from prison to find someone to date.
What kind of pot should be matched with what kind of lid.
Suddenly, Gojo Satoru stood up from his seat and walked straight towards the only desk in the studio.
He had a guess.
Hipper, every time you leave his world, you will stay at this transit station for a while.
The living details of this room are so typical of Hipper that there is not even a trace of 'cleaning'.
Sure enough, there was an unfinished cup of coffee on the table, the data content on the virtual screen was not closed, and there was an open brick notebook.
Bucket list.
Is she going to write a movie review after watching the movie?
No.
That was Hipper's handwriting.
[Hide it from Gojo Satoru]
If I write this at the beginning, it doesn't feel like a movie report.
He picked up the notebook and flipped through it. It was all written in familiar handwriting. The first page was written in childish handwriting, and the date was probably when she was six years old.
February 9, 1994.
[Seeing Gojo Satoru, he's like a hedgehog. He's so sensitive. What's wrong with just looking at him a few times? He's so stingy.]
It turns out that Hipper's desire for control was developed since childhood. He had a bad temper when he was young. If he felt that he was being monitored, he would probably turn the world upside down to find that person and kill him.
The next diary entry, or rather an annual entry, was two years later.
July 2, 1996.
Gojo Satoru has a fever again. He's so weak, just like me :-D
He gloated over someone else's misfortune and even put a smiley face at the end of the sentence.
He'd often had fevers as a child, trying to adapt to the information overload brought by the Six Eyes. So, was Hipper the same? Carrying the weight of such a vast world was incredibly difficult for them.
I didn't write a diary for a few years after that.
April 13, 2000.
[New additions to the key monitoring list include Geto Suguru and Naoko Ieiri, both promising prospects.]
She had been fickle since she was a child, and he finally discovered the reason.
Flirtatious, greedy, wanting it all.
He continued to turn to the next page.
January 1, 2002.
【I started dreaming.】
January 25, 2002.
Sleep half an hour longer than usual.
February 3, 2002.
【The countdown has begun.】
From this year on, the diary will be increased every month.
April 7, 2002.
I'm going to write a book, The Age of Hipper.
It’s amazing that he started writing books at the age of 14. He is indeed a little genius.
April 15, 2002.
[The title has been changed to "Amber Age". Using one's own name as the title of a book is too obvious a narcissism.]
Gojo Satoru:?
Does this book look familiar? Isn't that the forbidden book that Schipper told us not to read before leaving on her business trip? Did she write it herself?
It's her style to get into trouble like this.
December 7, 2002.
His eyes froze when he glanced over the date, his breathing unconsciously stopped for a moment, and his fingertips unconsciously stroked the words.
This day is Gojo Satoru's birthday.
I'm going to die.
…
There was still a stack of diaries under his fingertips that he hadn't finished reading, but after seeing this sentence, he suddenly didn't want to continue.
In 2002, Schipper was only 14 years old.
14 years old... She is 16 years old now. Is this what countdown means?
Keep reading.
December 27, 2002.
[I calculated that it's about four years old. It's still early and can be saved.]
Four years, that was when he was only 18 years old, now it’s only two years.
This idiot kept it a secret so thoroughly that even Glass and the others probably didn't know about it.
Continue to the next page.
From here on, the diary became a record of observations, and the handwriting seemed to be written casually and was a bit sloppy.
February 19, 2003.
I don’t want to die.
All the diaries from March 2003 to 2005 were almost identical: calculation failed, terminal illness, no hope, waiting to die.
It's almost time for Gojo Satoru to enter technical high school.
April 8, 2005.
[We’ll talk about whether he lives or not later. Let’s go see Gojo Satoru first.]
Is this...giving up treatment?
"Primordial Body, the request you mentioned... is it about the fact that Hipper is dying?" Gojo Satoru shook the diary in his hand that was as thick as a brick.
"As he said, yes." Primordial Celestial Body answered slowly amid their surprised expressions.
"Won't you explain?" He continued to flip through the pages, trying to sort out the information he wanted from these brief diary entries. "Time is running out."
The Primordial Celestial Being pondered for a moment, his voice calm, pausing briefly to observe their emotions, "It's too late."
When the man who was reading the diary heard these words, it was like a family member hearing the doctor say, "I'm sorry, we did our best."
Doesn't this mean that there's no hope? Shouldn't we seize the opportunity to talk to her and discuss how to handle the aftermath?
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