That Day When Suzuki-kun Wasn't the Mob-B! Chapter 490: A Hellish Difficulty (Patreon)

"As expected... a failure, huh?"

The words echoed softly through the damp, dimly lit cavern that served as their hideout. The air down here was thick, carrying the heavy scent of stagnant water, wet moss, and the faint, lingering odor of burnt ash—a grim reminder of their fallen friend, Jogo.

When Kenjaku learned what had happened to the Elders, he let out a helpless sigh, feeling as though the game's difficulty had just spiked from 'Hard' to 'Hellish.' While his stitched face remained perfectly placid, his heart felt uncharacteristically heavy. He wasn't the only one. Whether it was Hanami, Dagon, or the patchwork humanoid cursed spirit, a suffocating silence had fallen over the group. They all knew exactly how their friend had died when he faced Suzuki.

Kenjaku's plan—to use the Elders to brand Suzuki as a curse user and make him the most wanted criminal in Japan—hadn't just failed. It has completely backfired. The Zenin Clan had ruthlessly seized the vacant Elder seats, solidifying Suzuki's power over the Jujutsu society.

"Is he really that huge a problem?"

Mahito, the humanoid cursed spirit with heterochromatic eyes and stitched-together skin, tilted his head, his tone laced with genuine curiosity and a hint of doubt. He was casually tossing a fleshy, transfigured human in his hands like a baseball. "Compared to Gojo, this guy isn't the strongest, right?"

"Hmm, you are right," Kenjaku nodded. "But just because he is weaker than Gojo doesn't mean he is weak. In fact, he is much, much more troublesome than Gojo."

Kenjaku knew full well that Suzuki must have told Gojo about his true identity. Was there a chance Suzuki didn't know whose body Kenjaku was currently wearing? It was possible, but highly unlikely. Someone with Suzuki's immense wealth and intelligence would have undoubtedly done his research. With enough money, identifying the identity of Suguru Geto wasn't impossible.

The biggest flaw of the Jujutsu society was its lack of funding and its stubborn reliance on the Elders—an old-fashioned, rotting organization that should have expired centuries ago. Yet, because sorcerers were so rare and their duty of exorcising curses remained unchanged since ancient times, most believed the system didn't need fixing. They were content being government lapdogs.

But what if a predator like Suzuki took over that stagnant organization... what then?

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Kenjaku looked at Mahito. "Let's put it this way. Imagine Gojo is just a stronger version of Jogo. I know it's a bit rude to use Jogo as the baseline, but it's the easiest way for you to understand."

"Okay, and then?" Mahito stopped tossing the fleshy ball, still looking confused.

"Can you defeat a stronger Jogo?"

"Well, of course not," Mahito replied with a careless shrug. Mahito wasn't weak, but he knew his raw destructive power paled in comparison to Jogo's hellfire; his strength lay in his unique soul-manipulation techniques. "But what does this have to do with this Suzuki guy?"

"Suzuki's strength is like a terrifying combination of Jogo, Hanami, Dagon, and probably myself," Kenjaku explained, his voice eerily calm. "He might not be at the absolute peak in power, but let's say his sheer power is only slightly below Jogo's. Add to that the fact that he can completely erase his presence like Hanami, deploy a domain like Dagon, and he possesses an intellect on par with mine. Do you still think you can defeat him?"

"...When you put it like that, isn't he way too overpowered? I think we should be figuring out how to kill him immediately."

Mahito suddenly grasped the logic. Gojo was a straightforward hurdle—he was just a guy with overwhelmingly strong abilities. But a monster with the combined traits of a natural disaster, an assassin, and a genius strategist? It was an anomaly that needed to be eliminated.

"If I could, I would..." Kenjaku sighed helplessly.

"What if... we take his loved ones?" Hanami suggested softly. It was a cruel method, especially coming from a spirit that had wept at Jogo's death, but desperation was setting in.

"If we do that, we will be slaughtered instantly." Kenjaku shrugged, dismissing the idea entirely.

Hanami's method sounded easy on paper, but Kenjaku knew Suzuki was cut from a different cloth. Gojo might be the strongest, but as long as you didn't openly provoke him or cause a massacre in plain sight, you could maneuver around him. Suzuki wasn't like that. He was greedy. And worse, he was deeply malicious.

While modern sorcerers were burdened by morality, hesitation, or forgiveness, Suzuki harbored a pure malice. If you mess with me, I won't just take an eye for an eye. I will take your life, your family, and burn everything you've ever loved to the ground.

"Really, why does it have to be so difficult?" Kenjaku muttered, rubbing his chin.

All he wanted was to force the evolution of humanity. He wanted to manipulate the brains of everyone in this country, turning them into lab rats for his ultimate ambition. Was that really so wrong? People might call it evil, but to Kenjaku, humans were nothing more than livestock. Just as a breeder cross-breeds chickens to yield more eggs, or cattle to yield fatter meat, Kenjaku merely wanted to see what humans could become.

Even if millions—or tens of millions—died in the process, there were still eight billion people swarming the earth, weren't there? Wasn't he practically doing the planet a favor by trimming down the parasites consuming its resources?

Yet, for his grand canvas to be painted, Suzuki had to die.

"It seems we can only leave that guy to Sukuna."

Hearing those words, the cursed spirits nodded in solemn agreement. The faster they resurrected the King of Curses, the better. They needed the ultimate poison to kill the bastard known as Suzuki Zenin.

Meanwhile, Suzuki had finally decided to return to Kyoto. Mai had been relentlessly complaining about his prolonged stays in Tokyo, blowing up his phone with annoying texts.

Stepping onto the sprawling grounds of the Zenin estate in Kyoto was a stark contrast to the neon chaos of Tokyo. The air here was pristine, carrying the soothing, earthy scent of ancient pine trees and the delicate sweetness of blooming flowers. The only sound was the rhythmic, hollow clack of a bamboo shishi-odoshi striking a stone basin in the sun-dappled courtyard.

As Suzuki slid open the heavy wooden doors to his private quarters, he didn't even have a chance to take off his jacket before a warm, incredibly soft weight pressed against his back.

"Finally remembered where you live, huh?"

Mai's voice was a husky, sultry purr right next to his ear. Slender arms wrapped loosely around his chest. Suzuki glanced over his shoulder. Mai was wearing a loosely tied silk yukata that left entirely too much to the imagination, the smooth fabric slipping tantalizingly off one bare, porcelain shoulder. She smelled intoxicating—a rich blend of expensive floral soap and her own natural, warm scent.

She pressed her generous curves flush against him, her fingers tracing a slow, teasing line down his chest. "Leaving me alone in this boring, stuffy estate while you play king in Tokyo... you have a lot of making up to do, Onii-chan..."

Her breath was hot against his neck, and just as Suzuki turned around, fully intending to pull her by her slender waist and give her the 'attention' she was demanding, the harsh clearing of a throat shattered the heavy, heated atmosphere.

Suzuki paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked past Mai's shoulder, out toward the traditional reception room down the hall.

Sitting formally on the tatami mats, looking incredibly out of place and highly uncomfortable, were two unexpected guests: his previous teachers from Kyoto Jujutsu High.

Mai clicked her tongue in annoyance, hastily pulling her silk robe up to cover her shoulder, glaring daggers at the two older sorcerers who had ruined her perfect ambush.

Suzuki sighed, gently patting Mai's waist before stepping into the reception room. He sat down, the mood completely ruined.

The silence stretched for a moment before one of the teachers spoke, their expression grim.

"Can you help us erase the vessel of Sukuna, Suzuki?"

"..."

Suzuki slowly reached up, rubbing his temples in sheer exhaustion. He really had to wonder... was there ever a time in this world where he could just get a moment of peace?