Chapter Text
Another tough day in the life of a psychic—this could be how you would describe your day. But unlike others, you didn’t complain. Your psychic abilities had been with you since you were young, and, it must be said, they worked to your advantage. People were drawn to you not only because of your powers. Your charm and charisma did the trick, and the recognition from the crowd was something you could never get enough of.
It had been a year since you started working as a psychic part-time. Although it was just a side job, you sometimes managed to land "big fish"—clients willing to pay good money for spirit exorcism or protective rituals. The main job, however, didn’t impress you. Being a secretary seemed like a job for those unsure of their abilities. But you saw it differently. Money mattered, and a stable income mattered even more.
As you left the apartment, having just exorcised a minor spirit, the homeowner saw you off. She stood at the door, holding a cat that had finally stopped nervously running around the house. "Thank you so much," she said with relief, petting her fluffy favorite. "This spirit was tormenting both me and my poor kitty..."
You smiled warmly, adjusting your handbag on your shoulder.
"Madam, it’s nothing," you replied confidently. "If you have the power, you should use it."
The woman, evidently not expecting such words, looked at you with admiration in her eyes. She nodded and reached for her wallet. To your surprise, she gave you even more money than agreed.
"You psychics are such charming people," she said, handing you the money with a slight smile.
"We?" You raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Are there many of us?"
"Of course!" she replied, a little surprised by your question. "Haven't you heard of the greatest psychic of the 21st century—Reigen Arataka?"
The woman shook her head as though recalling the details.
"Such a man..." she said dreamily, rolling her eyes. "I would’ve called him again...”
"But didn’t?" You leaned forward, intrigued by the name.
"Oh, I ran into you, darling! He’s a sweetheart, of course, but I wanted to see someone else at work," she replied with a sly smile.
You nodded, hiding your slight satisfaction at her words. After chatting a little longer, you said your goodbyes. You bowed and wished her well before heading out. Your heels clicked rhythmically on the asphalt.
"Reigen Arataka..." you repeated the name in your mind as you walked home. "The greatest psychic of the 21st century?" If he’s really that great, why have I never heard of him?
Once home, you took off your heels and placed them carefully. The scent of floral air freshener filled your nose, as it always did. Your love for order and beauty never left you, even in your personal space. A pleasant atmosphere at home was key to a good rest.
Entering your bedroom, you lay down on the bed, feeling your body sink into the soft mattress. But it was too early to rest. You remembered the woman’s words with interest. "Reigen Arataka..." Why not find out who he is?
You grabbed your laptop, turned it on, and quickly typed in the name of this "genius psychic." "Reigen Arataka"—you repeated aloud, as if testing how these words sounded.
The page loaded in a few seconds, but what you saw made you squint. Bright colors, harsh fonts, and chaotic text placement hit your eyes.
"What kind of professional can’t even make a proper website?" you muttered, frowning.
The color scheme looked like a child’s attempt at graphic design. You scrolled down, trying to find something coherent. After a minute of searching, you found the "About Me" section and clicked on it.
The photo didn’t load immediately, but when it did, your face changed. Your lips parted slightly, and your eyes widened—unable to hide your surprise. The photo showed a man in a gray suit and a pink tie. He stood confidently with a smug smile on his face. In his eyes, you could read both arrogance and some strange sincerity.
"Hmm..." you tilted your head, studying him. "Maybe I was too quick to judge the website..."
Still not believing your eyes, you continued reading about his "abilities." Space clearing, exorcism, curse removal... A typical list of services for a psychic. But the way the text was presented made you smirk. You could feel the excessive self-assurance in every description.
"If you’ve got spirit problems—call me. I’m the only one who can handle this once and for all!"
"It sounds like he’s his own client," you chuckled, closing the laptop. "Interesting guy," you were still smiling , resting your face on your hand.
You lay in bed for a few more minutes, gazing thoughtfully at the ceiling. "He’s probably just a charlatan... but for some reason, I want to see him in action." The sound of the phone ringing suddenly interrupted your thoughts, as if someone had pulled you out of a trance. Instinctively, your hand reached for the phone on the bedside table. An unknown number flashed on the screen.
"Hello?" you answered curtly, shielding your eyes with your hand as though that might block out the fatigue.
"Hello, sorry to bother you, but we have an urgent problem..." a voice on the other end spoke, sounding anxious and fragmented. "Strange things are happening in the office. Objects are moving by themselves, the staff is scared! Can you come right now?"
You rolled your eyes for a moment, looking at the ceiling as if asking it for patience. Fatigue washed over you like a heavy wave, but suppressing a groan, you replied:
"Address, please."
The voice quickly gave you the address. You remembered it after just one hearing. Hanging up, you got out of bed, ran a hand over your face, and walked briskly to the coat rack. You grabbed your handbag and checked to make sure it had the necessary items inside: amulets, some salt, and a few more "professional tools" for exorcism.
"Alright, let’s go," you whispered to yourself, putting on your coat and fastening it.
Forty minutes later, you were standing in front of the office building. The evening air was cool, and a slight breeze ruffled your hair. The building looked ordinary—glass panels, glowing signs, and the usual business atmosphere. Nothing that would indicate the presence of a spirit, but from experience, you knew these things were rarely visible from the outside. You adjusted your handbag on your shoulder, and, making sure no one was in your way, you pushed the glass door open. Inside, a slight silence prevailed, broken only by the clicking of keyboards. A couple of employees glanced at you briefly before returning to their tasks. But you felt something… strange. A faint but distinct feeling of a cold draft running down your spine.
"Interesting start," you whispered as you walked down the corridor, glancing around.
But your path was blocked by a voice behind you:
"Hey, who are you?" a confident, yet slightly irritated voice of a man called out.
You turned around and saw the man. Gray suit, pink tie, a slight dishevelment to his appearance—and that face, you had seen it before. Yes, this was the "greatest psychic" from the website. But the reality was even better. The live Reigen looked... more attractive. Damn, way more attractive than in the photo. His eyes narrowed as he studied you, as though trying to figure out who you were and what you were doing here.
"I'm a psychic," you answered calmly, raising your chin and looking him straight in the eyes. "A client called me. They said there’s a troublesome spirit here."
Reigen raised an eyebrow, and something like mockery flickered in his eyes. He pointed to himself with his thumb and a broad, confident grin:
"My client called me. The greatest psychic of the 21st century."
You blinked slowly, then exhaled through your nose, shaking your head slightly.
"Greatest?" your voice held a touch of irony. You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, scanning him with a critical eye. Not a hint of spiritual energy emanated from him. He was as empty as a balloon.
"Funny, but I don’t think so," you added, smirking.
Reigen shook his head and put his hands in his jacket pockets as if signaling the start of a theatrical performance. "Miss," he began confidently, his voice playing with a note of playful teasing. "I can demonstrate my abilities. Right before your eyes."
His gaze narrowed, as though he had already imagined the triumph that awaited him in the end.
"Moreover," he added, his voice dropping lower and becoming dramatic, as if preparing for a final monologue on stage. "I will prove I’m better than you."
You raised one eyebrow and took a step forward. Up close, your faces were so near that you could see the little wrinkles from smiles and the stubborn gleam in his eyes. He was clearly one of those people who never back down from their words, even when they were wrong.
"Isn’t it a bit childish to argue about who’s better?" you tilted your head, studying his face closely. "Seems to me, the answer is obvious."
Your smirk was light, but it held an air of superiority.
"Obvious," Reigen echoed, squinting slightly, but his smug smile never disappeared. "Let’s see who can exorcise the spirit first."
You scoffed, shaking your head.
"Are you sure?" you asked, giving him a once-over. "I hope your 'abilities' are worth at least half of the words on that website."
He chuckled, and there was a glint in his eyes that looked like excitement.
"Oh, this will be a show you won't forget," he promised.
You turned away, smiling to yourself. This self-assured conman amused you. But there was something else. You felt a strange warmth in your chest—a mix of irritation and... interest? Well, at least you wouldn’t be bored.
"Let's go, 'greatest psychic,'" you said over your shoulder.
"Let's see who beats whom."
"The rules are simple. Whoever exorcises the spirit faster, wins. Agreed?" he said, presenting the terms with a smirk.
Reigen squinted and raised his hand in the air as if preparing for a handshake.
"Agreed." You smirked and slowly placed your hand in his, gripping it firmly. "I hope you won't run off when you realize you're losing," you said, looking directly into his eyes.
"You won't get rid of me that easily," he replied with his trademark self-satisfied grin.
Your hands parted, and an unspoken sense of competition hung in the air. He headed deeper into the office, toward an empty room where the faint sound of scratching could already be heard.