It's the same old rundown mattress in a somewhat new room—a room I chose to occupy in the rundown Shri, none of course. My residing here was all the buildup of the events that had unfolded yesterday.

  It all started after that. Ghost cursed me. He was getting ready to tell me what the curse of thieves did, but an interesting fellow showed up before he could. He was a blonde, not a real blonde, one of those die-job blondes who dye their hair blonde to make themselves look wealthy and successful. The thin,g is that this man was doing an excellent job of it.

  While his hair was dyed blonde, it was subtle in most people's opinion. Not. I'm desperately trying to prove myself to be blonde. There were hints of his brunette hair, his original color, and he was wearing a suit Christina's always but custom-made navy blue dress shirt. He had a teal button-up Bzer, which wasn't what was unbuttoned, and his bck dress pants and authentic leather fashion shoes. He even had a smartwatch without a genuine leather band on it. Everything from what he was wearing streamed success, but the dye job was the only thing that screamed desperately, trying to pretend to be. I was getting examples in all the wrong ways.

  While I was distracted by the ghost, the guy called me, saying who are you. My instincts from my hoodlum days told me not to give up my name. Oddly enough, the guy caught on been following up with the most ridiculous series of races I've never heard almost anyone ever say

  "Who are you? You know what I decided. I don't care for some reason. You remind me of what I love the most in this world: money. From what I'm gathering, I see you're interested in this pce. I'm having a hard time selling it. I'd offer to sell it to you, but everything about you screams broke as hell, and I don't have time for brokers, but I do have time for opportunities. You see, a guy like me loves to dip his hand into anything that can get you another dolr. Richer, and that's the kind of vibe you're giving off, so I will offer you a deal. No need to worry about the details; you get the pce to settle in, and I'll hook you up with jobs. And, of course, I'll be sure to get my cut from it. All right, I'm getting ahead of myself. What's your name?"

  My head was spending so much I didn't stop to think before I gave you my name. I told him my name is Mitsu, first name Mitsu, st name Hugh, no retion. Last week, my parents gave me my first parcel in a while. It was a legally binding document crifying that they disowned me. I'm not quite sure how things led to that, but there was a family meeting that I wasn't invited to. Funny enough, Grandma added me to his will and took Mom and Dad off. I wonder what went down this time?

  Well, I was distracted by my family politics. I couldn't help but notice that the guy was standing right next to me with his arm around my neck ring. He was saying things. My kind of male family only stops you from success, and we love success. So anyways, Mitsu, I cut them off, my friends. Call me Mickey, which caused him to let out a healthy chuckle. He then responded with her of course. Of course, who needs birth names? When you have nicknames, nicknames give bonds, and nicknames give reputation. So yeah, I'll give you the lease in exchange for your services when I need them because I feel that in a few weeks from now, you'll be offering just the service I need.

  Some unexpined phenomena have been slowing down some businesses. He's been trying to either start-up or follow through on things that have complicated his income tely, so he wants me to do something about it, but he's not specifying what he wants. It's starting to sound increasingly like he wants me to do something illegal. Hopefully, that's not the case cuz I've already gotten out of that life when I tried thinking of a way to get off. I slowly realized he was already gone. The ghost then pointed out the key left in front of my foot with a note on it. Sad. It is a pleasure doing business with you.

  I'm the owner of a shrine now, but anyway, is your way back in on the ghost to remind me that he had things to discuss? He said he had something to show me inside the shrine. We walked briefly, and the pce seemed condensed, really condemned. They found something radioactive, and it ruined the entire pce. I'm worried about getting lead poisoning. We stopped in front of a wall. That was the only thing not covered in those weird talisman things that the monks and priestess used. He then told me to remove the wall, confused. I prepared to punch it, thinking that it wouldn't hurt as much as it would. Then he stopped me and told me that the wall was removable and that.

  After removing the wall, it revealed something interesting. A couple of items looked like they belonged in a cursed exhibit: some weird bottle with ashes sealed with those talismans, a book that looks like it's seen better days and may have survived a flood or two, and a chemistry set of sorts. I'm not sure what that's about.

  I am using it now, and the book will help me out. He then expined that the shrine used to belong to a very, very, very old and extinct set of bck monks and priests who all practiced utilizing curses. Unlike regur priests, instead of trying to remove the curses from the world, they strove to advance curses, studying them, probing them, and figuring out how to harness their power.

  The ghost had it in mind, and I was against it. I just got out of the whole delinquent lifestyle. I'm not jumping into the entire supervilin trying to curse the world lifestyle for which I tried to call him out, but he insists that's not what he wanted. Effectively. He started expining how curses work.

  "Young thief, you misunderstand my intentions before I begin to expin my intentions. Let me expin how curses work: beings like myself produce negative energy. It exists all around. It exists where nothing exists. It exists where something exists. It exists in a prison cell. It exists anywhere where there is hostility, negativity, and the like. We beings who produce this stuff Foster it into a trademark or something that helps identify it. It's us who wield it. In doing so, the curse that we cultivate starts to mimic our ways to develop abilities that match our personalities; in my case, I am a thief, so my curse steals things. What I did to you is pack a bunch of negative energy into your body and then mold it using my personality, but I didn't allocate to curse to me."

  I tried nodding and understanding, even though I only understood half of his words. He continued.

  "Now, I need you to improve your ability to use my curse by pretending to be an exorcist. My curse allows you to steal any concept so long as it fits into the conceptual pockets I gave you. Unfortunately, your body can only handle three pockets, hence the three tattoos on your arm."

  Then, I made a weird sign that I assume has something to do with money.

  "Now I gave you my curse and led you to that book because, like the priest who lived here, all focused on cultivating curses. It got so bad about the other priests in the area. I had to crack down on the whole family. They all got executed and then had to seal away every cursed item in the household. Taking it to God knows where to ensure that none of them remained here to cause the manifestation of some greater evil deity or something. But I guess they never noticed me sealed into the tree they were experimenting with, so I left behind. Well, all the cool guys got to hang out wherever they were. "

  He then pointed at the tree.

  "The way I see it, you need a job, and I need a way out of this peach tray. I'll help you become a decent pretend exorcist with my curse and their knowledge. Then, when you've become competent enough at utilizing curses and my power to exercise phenomena, you will thank me by stealing my possession from that tree and then pcing me somewhere where I may thrive out of seclusion. Sounds like a good deal, right?"

  At that point, I got the gist of what he wanted. I didn't understand any of it, though, like any of the technical drugs in that US spewing didn't nd, but it just sounds like he wants me to use these curses to help him out. And I guess these curses will help me become an exorcist and make money. Wait. Let me think well. I'm trying to contempte. I pulled out my phone and searched for a monk's monthly income. My eyes started to bulge at the numbers.

  They're so low that it's not even funny thinking about it. I search for the income of other religious figures and other things in the same ballpark. Some of them were squeaking by, and others made crazy money, but those were like the fraudulent kind, but wait. Didn't you say he wants me to be the fraudulent kind? I can make bank at the fraudulent kind, but if I get caught, I'd be in deep water. I could start a cult, which is always a good way to make money, but then again, exorcist, maybe that guy in the suit.

  Thinking about it a bit. I currently have no job. This is the only job opportunity that guarantees money, and I have nothing better to do. Plus, my savings should be enough to go a week on ramen before I need to start hunting for a job. Sounds doable. I shrugged, then decided to stretch and go home for the day. I returned when I had some time to sleep on it, but just as I went outside, I saw all my stuff at the front door with a letter taped.

  Since I got you a new pce, I'll help you move out of your old pce. Turns out I own the building that you were renting. Most of the tenants, including you, were behind on, right? I pnned on kicking them all out, getting some fresh blood, and seeing if that might help me get some money going. You know how it is. When you're low on blood. You need a new end injection. You have to get rid of that nasty stuff. So anyway, bring your stuff here. You're welcome! I hope you're able to settle in nicely. You should check over your stuff; though I didn't have time or the intention to hire movers, I just paid some guys hanging out at Home Depot to move the stuff. You might not realize it, but something might be missing. Just a friendly reminder. Love, Ryan.

  I crumpled the paper, threw it to the ground, rolled up my sleeves, and began moving my stuff into the building. When I got to the TV, I wondered if the electricity was working. It turned out it was, and it was perfectly fine. I wonder if Ryan had renovated the pce to include electricity,s according to the ghost. No one's been here for millennia, but it shows the most significant room for me since I'll be living alone. At least I can say at age 20, I acquired my very own home, even though it came with some questionable strings attached.

  As I tried to rex, the ghost, Yosuke, kept bugging me to practice his curse. He said the more I practice, the better and more natural it feels. So he had me line up a bunch of empty beer bottles and instructed me to try to steal the caps off the bottles without stealing the bottles. I couldn't quite wrap my head around what he meant by steal.

  According to him, I have to ensure that my hand is open and willing to receive vague information. Zane, I must spread thin my curse energy stored within the pockets and bathe the target with unsaid cursed energy I must want. Whatever it is, I'm trying to take it with every fiber of my being, and if I'm strong enough, it'll be dragged into my pocket. It'll be taken as long as it fits within three pockets—a very confusing concept.

  I tried it, but on the first attempt, nothing worked. When I got a little drunk on the second attempt, I could have sworn some cats disappeared and reappeared right next to me. Well, the third time falling was pstered. Half of the bottles disappeared, reappeared a few feet from where they were, and then at one point when I was barely hanging on to consciousness but wanted another drink. A beer just appeared in my hand.

  According to Yosuke, I'm a natural thief when drunk, but the dude does not mean his words. I take my practice to the streets; otherwise, I won't get that good. I told her I'm not pickpocketing people. He then asked who had said I was going to pickpocket. It's time for me to start putting exorcism into practice.