The living room was rearranged again. Juno had stolen whiteboards from a nearby cram school. Junpei was holding a bracket chart like it was a cursed artifact. And Flint? He was already shirtless for no reason, chugging a cursed sports drink labeled "Traumaade™".
"Welcome," Juno announced with way too much enthusiasm, "to the first official Crimson Communion Therapy Bracket. Where we settle, once and for all, who is the most emotionally unwell."
"We already know it's Thorne," Junpei muttered.
"No, no, no," Spillglass said, tapping the board. "This ain't about facts. It's about presentation. Style. Public breakdown energy."
Thorne stared at the bracket. His name was already in the final four, scribbled in red.
"…Is that blood?"
"Maybe," Flint grinned.
Round One kicked off with Junpei vs Spillglass.Their challenge? Confess something emotionally raw while juggling cursed fruits.
Spillglass sobbed mid-toss. "My dad died on Halloween and now I can't eat candy without crying!"
Junpei deadpanned, "One time a girl said she liked my eyelashes and I got attached for six months."
Everyone gasped. Spillglass dropped a fruit. He lost on emotional impact. Junpei moved on.
Next was Juno vs Flint:Cursed karaoke with trauma remixes.
Juno belted a cursed remix of "Let It Go" titled "Let Him Go (He Wasn't Good For You Anyway)."
Flint yelled-sang "I'm Fine" by screaming "I'M FINE!" over and over to the beat of a cursed xylophone.
It ended in a tie, broken by a tiebreaker where Juno recited her exorcism log from her first kill while crying and doing a headstand.
She won.
Semis: Junpei vs Juno.
The challenge? "Read each other's vibe wrong on purpose."It turned vicious. Juno accused Junpei of being a closeted romantic.Junpei said Juno probably can't sleep unless she's plotting revenge.Both were correct, but they denied everything.
It ended with them throwing emotional grenades till they cried-laughed. The bracket committee ruled them both too unwell to proceed.
So, by default, Thorne won.
He never participated.
He just sat on the couch, drinking cursed tea, muttering, "I'm not playing this game," while everyone else burned their emotional bandwidth like gasoline.
Juno crowned him champion. Flint handed him a tiara. Spillglass cried and threw streamers. Thorne deadpan stared at them all.
"I am not well," he said flatly.
"Exactly," Juno whispered. "Wear it with pride, King."
Later that night, they all passed out in a pile of blankets and half-finished therapy snacks. Junpei snored on the floor. Juno was curled up with her spellbook. Flint had passed out hugging the tiara. Thorne sat on the rooftop again, but this time—just thinking. Not brooding.
For once.
Meanwhile—far away—Geto sat in a quiet temple. The room flickered with cursed candles. Mahito, bruised and freshly reformed, floated beside him like a smug ghost.
"They're falling into routine," Mahito whispered. "Softer now. Easier to fracture."
Geto sipped tea, silent.
"They're funny," he said finally. "That's what makes them dangerous. People like that… they don't break the way others do. They fold. Re-form. Adapt."
Mahito sneered. "So what? We wait?"
"No," Geto smiled faintly. "We introduce a guest. Something loud. Something divine."
He placed a small charm on the table—a black knot etched with ancient script.
"A Cursed Monk is waking up," he said softly. "Let's see if the Communion bleeds with a smile."