The Blood War was over. The sky above Tokyo, once choked with the suffocating, malevolent cursed energy of Kyo Tengen, had finally cleared. The King of Villains was dead, his fingers reduced to nothing but ash.

​But Tengen hadn’t been the only cancer eating away at the sorcers world.

​In the immediate aftermath, Kaisen had paid a visit to the shadowy, screen-lined chambers of the Sorcer Headquarters. He hadn’t worn his blindfold that day. The Higher-Ups—the corrupt, archaic elders who had spent decades plotting his sealing, executing children, and maintaining their fragile grasp on power—had screamed for executioners. Instead, they got the executioner. Kaisen had slaughtered three-quarters of them in a blur of casual, ruthless violence, painting the paper screens crimson.

​Yet, a handful of the elders remained, cowering in the corner of the room, trembling in their pristine robes, smelling of old age and sheer terror. Kaisen had stopped, a terrifyingly bored smile playing on his lips. Killing them all at once was too easy. It lacked flavor. He wanted to watch them squirm.

​He wiped a drop of stray blood from his cheek, leaned against a wooden pillar, and dropped a ridiculous, impossible ultimatum.

​"Tell you what," Kaisen had chirped, his voice dripping with mock sweetness. "I’m feeling generous. I’ll give you a game. You have exactly one month to find a woman who can make me fall in love with her at first sight. If you succeed, you keep your heads and your precious little titles. If you fail... well, I’ve been meaning to see how many of you I can crush with a single attack of my shadow black ."

​The remaining elders were horrified, but desperate. They threw themselves into the challenge with the frantic energy of men running from the grim reaper.

​What followed was a month of absolute, unmitigated disaster.

​Round 1: The Curried Favor (The Nieces)

​The elders immediately looked to their own bloodlines, assuming a woman of "noble breed" and high society would capture the Strongest One.

​First up was the grand-niece of Principal Suga closest ally—a poised, elegant woman trained in traditional tea ceremonies and classical dance. The elders arranged a "chance" meeting at a high-end Kyoto teahouse. Kaisen showed up in a baggy tracksuit, loudly slurping a strawberry parfait.

​When the young woman tried to initiate a conversation about the beauty of the autumn leaves, Kaisen stared at her blankly through his sunglasses, popped a dango into his mouth, and said, "Your cursed energy signature is incredibly boring. It smells like old dust. Pass."

​She left in tears. The elders panicked.

​Round 2: The Sorcerer Elites

​Realizing high-society charm wouldn’t work, they pivoted to strength. They began aggressively setting Kaisen up with powerful, elite female sorcerers from across Japan, pulling strings and fabricating "urgent joint missions."

​The Special Grade Candidate: They flew in a beautiful, fierce semi-grade 1 sorcerer from the Hokkaido branch. She was confident, sharp, and combat-ready. She met Kaisen at a cursed hotspot. Before she could even introduce herself, Kaisen teleported behind her, stole her hair tie to see how she’d react, and sighed. "You're trying too hard to look cool. It's exhausting. Next!"

​The Traditionalist: They tried a beautiful shrine maiden from a prominent sorcer clan. She approached Kaisen with reverence and awe, speaking to him like a god. Kaisen hated it. "If I wanted someone to worship me, I’d just look in the mirror," he muttered, walking away mid-sentence to buy a limited-edition Kikufuku mochi.

​Round 3: Total Desperation

​By week three, the elders were losing their minds. The threat of a hollow technique erasing their existence was looming large. They threw out all standards. They tried setting him up with curse users they had secretly pardoned, foreign sorcerers, and even a highly-rated model they had hastily tried to teach the basics of cursed energy to.

​Every single attempt was a miserable failure. The elders would watch from the bushes or via surveillance shikigami, sweating through their robes as Kaisen dismantled these women's confidence with a single glance.

​"Too short."

"Too loud."

"Why is she breathing like that?"

"Her cursed energy looks like a soggy waffle. Gross."

​Kaisen was thoroughly enjoying himself. He wasn't even trying to hide his amusement. Every time he rejected a woman, he would text the group chat he had forced the surviving elders into, sending a single sticker of a crying thumbs-up.

​With only three days left on the clock, the elders were entirely out of options, completely out of eligible women, and staring directly into the abyss of Kaisen's absolute boredom.