That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B! Chapter 489: Gods, Dogs, and Monsters (Patreon)

"Geez, do you have to protect those Elders?"

Suzuki ended the call, tossing his sleek smartphone onto the coffee table. He had just ordered a stop to his revenge attack on the Elders. Fun as it was, maintaining a massive media smear campaign, bribing politicians, and manipulating the stock market cost a fair amount of money. Compared to the wealth they had already squeezed from the Elders, the profit margin was no longer worth the effort.

Yet the revenge was necessary.

It might not make him wealthy, but it made him feel comfortable, and no one would mess with him, probably. 

Suzuki sank deeper into the sofa and thought about those old fools—men who had looked down on him, thinking they could control him with a mere threat of declaring him a curse user—his chest swelled with deep, comfortable satisfaction. Now, they were crushed, living a waking nightmare that made hell look merciful.

Killing them would have been too easy. Death was an empty punishment. Once a hated enemy was gone, they were simply at peace. But forcing these arrogant fossils to live the rest of their days in absolute, agonizing ruin? It was the finest type of revenge.

"...If I don't protect them, won't you just take over the Elders completely?"

Gojo stood a few paces away, keeping those weak, trashy, and thoroughly useless Elders in power was more comfortable than letting Suzuki take the reins. At least Gojo could threaten the Elders with death.

Then again, it was inevitable that Suzuki would demand at least two of the Elders' seats, leaving Gojo feeling entirely helpless. What was Suzuki going to do with the two Elder positions? Still, Gojo thought, it was only two seats. Decisions required a majority vote. With only two, it was impossible for Suzuki to control everything... right?

Suzuki merely stared at Gojo and felt Gojo's mind was either painfully simple or hopelessly naive.

Being a god, the undisputed strongest of all, why would this guy insist on playing by human rules? Was Gojo so lonely at the summit of the world that he had to pretend to be a normal human? Even the weakest, most pathetic sorcerers viewed themselves as special beings, looking down on non-sorcerers as a species of monkey. Yet here was the pinnacle of evolution, desperately trying to stay with everyone, as he was too afraid to be alone. 

Well, it has nothing to do with me, Suzuki thought.

He didn't care about the Elders, and he certainly didn't care about Gojo's moral dilemmas. His only goal was to live in absolute comfort while figuring out how to grow his own strength. As for the lingering threat that someone might eventually kill Gojo? Suzuki decided to keep that knowledge to himself.

Was he heartless? Perhaps the fans of Satoru Gojo would think so, but Suzuki knew that Gojo would never take his advice seriously anyway. As the strongest, was there any being alive that could genuinely threaten him?

Well, there is one sitting right in front of him, Suzuki thought, but he wouldn't think of killing Gojo just because this guy was troublesome. 

He already knew exactly how to defeat Gojo. Gojo wasn't as invincible as society believed, after all. Even without Mahoraga's adaptation, Suzuki had enough cards up his sleeve. But there was no need to make an open enemy of him today. Suzuki wasn't blind; he could feel the heavy, suffocating weight of Gojo's cursed energy hovering in the room, showing Gojo was wary of him.

And because of that, Suzuki also didn't plan to be Gojo's friend either. 

"Now, the talk is over. Get out of my place."

"..."

Gojo stood utterly speechless. He watched as Suzuki stood up and sauntered over to the massive, stainless-steel smart fridge. A blast of freezing air rushed out as Suzuki opened the door, grabbing an icy can of premium soda. Gojo had assumed Suzuki was fetching drinks or sweets for the both of them, yet Si simply cracked the can open, took a long, crisp gulp, and casually kicked him out.

"Really? Are you kicking me out?"

"Do you think I should be in a good mood looking at you?" Suzuki couldn't help but mock Gojo. "Especially with what you did today, acting as the dog of the Elders? But well, since you are quite strong, let's say you're a Cerberus."

"...Isn't that still a dog?" Gojo deadpanned.

No matter how cool a Cerberus sounded in mythology, a dog was a dog. Yet, Gojo didn't move toward the door. He shifted his weight, his tone dropping a fraction. "Do you see me as your enemy?"

"No, I just see you as an annoying fly."

"..."

What do you do with a fly? You shoo it away.

Suzuki took another sip, the carbonation biting the back of his throat. "You should have your own principles or convictions."

"I do!" Gojo snapped, unable to hold back his irritation. "Do you think I'm blindly following the Elders? You have caused an absolute mess! Why did you have to take it this far?"

Gojo glared at Suzuki, infuriated by Suzuki's condescending gaze. Did Suzuki think he didn't work hard for his ideals? Gojo wanted to reset the Jujutsu world, to foster strong allies, but there was no need to rush! Those rotting Elders would die of old age sooner or later; there was zero reason to create a nationwide disaster!

More importantly, the more casually Suzuki destroyed lives, the more Gojo felt a creeping dread. What Suzuki had done to the Elders was horrifying. Not a single family member, acquaintance, or business partner connected to them had emerged unscathed. They were ruined in ways no one could have ever imagined. Their lives were effectively over.

Was Suzuki truly going to walk a path that was filled with force and absolute terror?

"Because you are just too incompetent," Suzuki replied, looking at Gojo with a gaze as if this guy couldn't be saved anymore. "And you are too soft. It's so soft it makes me want to puke."

Suzuki narrowed his eyes and asked, "Yuji, your precious student, was sent on a suicide mission. Yet what did you do? You showed up with a silly, goofy smile, followed the Elders' script, and begged to save them. If you aren't a dog, then what are you? A god? The strongest in the universe? No. I think you are just a tool in their wrinkly hands."

Gojo's jaw parted, but no words came out. He stared at Suzuki in sheer shock, the blunt truth cutting through his usual laid-back facade. Finally, his composure shattered.

"IDIOT!" Gojo roared, his voice bouncing off the high ceiling. "SUZUKI IS AN IDIOT! STUPID! JERK! DICTATOR! YOU SHITTY HAREM LOVER!"

Throwing a childish tantrum, Gojo spun on his heel and stormed toward the door, throwing many petty insults over his shoulder.

"...What are you, an elementary school student?" Suzuki muttered, watching Gojo's retreating back. He wondered what was wrong with the man's head.

Sometimes, Suzuki wondered why Gojo was so painfully lenient toward the Elders instead of just declaring himself the dictator of Jujutsu society. Was Gojo afraid of being seen as a monster? Or was it just because his untouchable status made him lazy? Either way, Suzuki dared to do everything Gojo didn't.

As for reputation? Who cared? The Zenin Clan was already infamous for being a den of brutal meatheads. Suzuki had zero interest in acting like a shounen manga protagonist, relying on the 'power of friendship', blind kindness, and positive morals. Those useless emotions only bred trouble.

Look at the villains—they lived in absolute luxury, exuded a terrifying aura, and did whatever they pleased. The 'good guys'? They lived in constant torment, bleeding themselves dry to protect a society that couldn't care less if they died.

Still, right Gojo was about to teleport, Suzuki called out.

"Wait, Gojo."

"What?" Gojo snapped, still fuming, though he paused.

"A gift."

Suzuki flicked his wrist. A small, glossy square of paper cut through the air. Gojo caught it effortlessly between two fingers. He flipped it over, his brilliant blue eyes locking onto the image.

The air in the room instantly plummeted by ten degrees.

"...What is this?" Gojo's voice was devoid of all childishness. It was a cold, hollow whisper.

"Your friend, right?"

It was a freshly taken photograph of Kenjaku. But more importantly, it was a photograph of Suguru Geto's body. To steal the corpse of Gojo Satoru's one and only best friend... that was a death sentence.

"If I find out where he is, you can fight him," Suzuki said with ease.

"Thanks."

Gojo stared at Suzuki for a long, heavy moment. The gratitude in his voice was sincere. Without another word or petty insult, he vanished out the door.

Left alone in the room, Suzuki sat down, stretching his legs with a long, lazy yawn. He wondered what Kenjaku was scheming right now. Regardless, while he waited for the pieces to fall into place, many interesting things were about to happen.